


numb

by NLJ21



Series: Life Is Terrible [1]
Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Drug Withdrawal, F/F, F/M, Hallucinations, Heroin, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, No age difference between Hope and twins, No endgame ship for Hope as of now, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Torture, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex, Vomiting, chapter 3 is completely rewritten with new content, chapters 1&2&4 have been reworked, not a happy fic, not because of an eating disorder, this fic deserves a fuck you tag by now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-11 23:10:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 68,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20554220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NLJ21/pseuds/NLJ21
Summary: Hope deals with the loss of her parents, her heritage, and her life





	1. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> read the tags

Hope Andrea Mikaelson is fifteen years old when she returns to the Salvatore school and she is not the same girl she used to be.

Her newly activated werewolf side is a constant struggle, moments of her temper acting up become more and more frequent, such as on her first day back. On this day, she beat up a wolf for looking at her the wrong way and later on slept with him.

_She was peacefully sitting at a table, alone, enjoying or trying to enjoy her food when she noticed that some of the wolves were staring at her. Hoping that she didn’t have to deal with more supernatural purists, she simply continued eating, but that one idiot kept looking at her._

_Snapping, she sat up and confronted him in front of everybody. After years of being more of a passive and even shy person she has embraced her father’s temper._

_“What do you want?” she asked, her tone way louder than it needed to be. Every wolf sitting at the table stared at her and Jason, the wolf she was addressing._

_Other students turned to them, to see what was going on._

_“Am I not allowed to check out such a beautiful human being?” he replied in a cocky manner._

_“No you are not. Not when you annoy the shit out of me.” _

_Dark blond hair and blue eyes, kinda hot._

_“Relax, Mikaelson,” he smirks when saying the name, “Only because you are hot doesn’t mean you are any less despicable than the rest of your murderous family.” It was not surprising, they talk about her family in class, how evil they are, but that didn’t mean she would listen to him – not after years of not reacting to statements like this._

_He found himself on the ground in the next moment, eating punches until the wolves dragged Hope off of him. _

_Immediately a crowd of students and teachers were there._

_“Wanna say that again?” Hope asked as she tried to free herself from the wolves grip on her arms. She head butted one and hit another one with a spell, effectively freeing herself._

_Jason was holding his bleeding nose. Two wolves were shielding him from Hope._

_“What the hell is going on?” Dorian asked._

_She realized in that moment that beating people up will not improve her family’s reputation, but it was too late._

_“That girl is bat shit crazy, that’s what’s going on,” Jason complained._

_Hope soon found herself in Alaric’s office, assuring him that she was fine. As if he fucking cared. He was probably celebrating every day since Klaus died, since he left her alone. She just cannot comprehend his decision, why would he kill himself, why would he leave her, too? As if losing her mom wasn’t bad enough, no, he just had to kill himself._

_She met Jason again later that day. She was waiting for him in a hallway after lunch. _

_“Jason.”_

_Her voice startled him. His eyes glowed golden in the dimly lit hallway. She wouldn’t beat him like that again. He was ready this time._

_Hope rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to beat you up again,” she said and walked towards him._

_“You can try,” he answered with fake confidence. He was stumbling backwards as she continued walking. His back hit the wall, Hope standing right in front of him. _

_Hope had to lift her head to look into his eyes. Even though Jason was a head taller than her, he was afraid. Hope could see the fear, she could smell it._

_“Big bad wolf is afraid of a girl, huh?”_

_He couldn’t think of a single reply as Hope looked at him._

_“You are actually speechless.” She rolled her eyes again. Impatient for a reaction, she kissed him._

_At first he didn’t react at all, so surprised by the action. After a moment he reversed their position, pushing Hope against the wall and ferociously kissing her. _

_Hope smirked as he took control of the situation, like a real wolf._

_“Is your room free?” she asked._

_He eagerly nodded and dragged her to his room._

_“Is this your first time?” he asked and she nodded. “Okay, then we’ll take it easy.”_

_They took their time, kissing for some time until Hope got impatient. She went down on him, trying to figure out how to properly do it with his instructions. After returning the favor they move on to the next stage. _

_Hope would have liked it to be rougher, his gentleness almost making her cry. But it was… nice? She wasn’t sure. _

_ She didn’t care about this guy or the fact that he would tell everyone that he had sex with Hope Mikaelson, her first time. She just wanted to feel something and in that moment, she did. And by doing it, she discovered that sex is a great way to do just that._

_“That was amazing,” he said, lying on the bed. Still catching his breath, he noticed that Hope was getting dressed. “What are you doing?”_

_“Leaving you,” said Hope, sounding disinterested, she just wanted to get away and forget about him. _

_“But-“_

_“Did you think this meant something?” She laughed. “I just wanted to fuck you. Sorry if that wasn’t clear.”_

_“Why me?”_

_“You are handsome,” she replied while leaving his room, closing the door behind her._

_She almost vomited on the way to her room but got into one of the bathrooms in time. _

_“Are you alright?” a girl asked her._

_Hope didn’t answer, ignoring the girl. A note slipped under the door. The girl left the bathroom._

_‘Room 206 if you need someone to talk’ the note said._

_As expected, everyone in the school – from teacher to student – knew that Jason slept with Hope Mikealson._

Hope is in a familiar position, in Roman’s room, on her knees, being fucked until she can’t think anymore. And Roman is perfect for it, the first person she kissed, the person who is partly responsible for destroying her life – so many emotions that she usually doesn’t feel anymore.

With each time it gets a bit rougher, the more emotions in play, the more heated it gets.

What would _he_ think if he could see her now? It doesn’t matter, he left her alone when she needed him most, but she still wonders.

That’s what she thinks when Roman comes inside her.

“This is so fucked up. We shouldn’t do this,” Roman says, disgusted with himself.

“That didn’t stop you the last five times,” Hope retorts.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you sleeping with me?”

Hope scoffs. “Since when do you care? You seemed to enjoy it,” she says.

“Is this some weird kind of revenge for what I did?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she scoffs, “Sleeping with me is revenge. Thanks. It’s such a bad thing, huh?”

“You know what I mean.” He rolls his eyes while he’s saying this. “This isn’t normal sex or a normal relationship,” he points out.

“Duh. This is a distraction. This is hate sex,” she says. She thought that this was obvious, but apparently it wasn’t.

“Is this about your father?” he asks hesitantly.

“What?” she hisses, daring him to say more.

“You didn’t kill me after your mother died. You were kind; a good person. Look at you now, you're a mess. You've completely changed and the only thing that happened in between was your father’s death. So again, is this - you and I - a weird daddy thing?”

Hope stares at him the whole time he is talking, her expression turning livid towards the end. She grabs his throat and pushes him against the wall.

“I tortured you, remember?” she says.

“Of course, but you felt bad about it and you stopped. You are a good person, Hope.”

“I will rip your throat out if you ever mention him again,” she replies. She pushes him harder against the wall, trying her best to ignore his words.

“That’s kinda hot,” he manages to say.

Hope releases him and kisses him again.

“And you ask me if I have daddy issues? I bet your ‘mommy’ did this countless times to you,” Hope mocks him as he catches his breath.

He catches her off guard by shoving her, knocking her down.

“Don’t talk about my mom,” he demands, hurt eyes watching her.

It’s another thing that connects them, dead mothers, they even died together. Defending his family, she absolutely understands it and it’s so hot. She gets up and kisses him again.

“Who is this? Everyone is staring at her,” Rafael observes, gesturing at Hope who is walking to one of the many tables.

Rafael is a new student, his first day at the Salvatore school. He is sitting at a table with Lizzie, Josie, and Kaleb. They just finished the typical tour and now are eating lunch.

“That is Hope Mikaelson,” Lizzie says with disgust in her voice.

“You don’t like her?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement.

“That would be an understatement,” Josie replies. “Lizzie hates her.”

“Why?”

“She hates her because everyone is looking at Hope and not at her,” Kaleb says which made Lizzie punch his arm.

“She is just an attention whore and she sleeps with everyone here. It’s disgusting.”

“Is it a bad thing that she has a …healthy love life?” Rafael asks.

“God, you want to sleep with her too?”

“No. No, I am not that kind of guy, but you have to admit she is beautiful,” Rafael replies honestly.

Josie hums in agreement.

“I never said she isn’t,” Lizzie defends. “Her looks don’t make her a good person, though.”

“She is a bit terrifying,” Kaleb adds. “Don’t make her mad,” he advices.

“Shut up, she is walking in our direction,” Josie says. The food in front of her is very interesting all of a sudden.

Hope walks past them without giving them a glance.

“Hey,” Rafael says, deciding to get an impressing of her. From all the different schools he has attended, he knows that gossip isn’t accurate, more often than not.

Hope turns around, searching the person who said something.

“Hey, I’m Rafael,” he speaks, offering his hand. She glances at his hand.

“Wolf?” she asks.

“Yep.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Waiting for him to say something, she asks, “Do you want anything or can I go?”

“No, I just wanted to introduce myself.” He smiles.

She eyes him skeptically. “I’m not sure if you’re flirting, so in case you are, I’m not interested.”

Chuckling, he decides that he likes her. “No, I’m not flirting with you.”

“Josie, Lizzie, Kaleb,” she acknowledged their presence before leaving.

“How can one be so egomaniacal?” Lizzie says. “Not everyone is flirting with you.”

“Lizzie, you could be so great in anything if you invested as much time in it as you spend on hating me,” Hope replies and walks away.

“That was Hope Mikaelson for you,” Kaleb says, watching Hope’s back.

Rafael is sure Hope would not only die if looks could kill, Lizzie’s look can probably send a meteor to earth to crush Hope.

Josie looks more like she wants to be one of Hope’s conquests, judging by the blush on her face.

Hope sits alone for a few minutes, leaving without eating, not in the mood for puking

Hope is hitting the punching bag over and over again. The technique she is supposed to do completely forgotten as she just lets her frustrations out. The timer is ignored; her fists keep hitting the punching bag.

“Whoa, what did that punching bag do to you to deserve such a beating?” Alaric asks. He has observed Hope for a couple of minutes and thought the poor thing deserves a break.

Hope doesn’t react to his words, never stopping.

Alaric grabs her shoulder. Bad idea. Turning around, she hits him with a right hand. Her eyes turn back from gold to blue once she realized what has happened.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here.”

“It’s okay,” Alaric replies.

“What do you want?” Hope asks.

“I wanted to talk to you but I think that can wait until after I kick your ass.” He can almost hear her rolling her eyes.

“I can’t refuse, can I?”

“Nope.” he grins.

She is secretly happy. It’s always more fun for her to train with someone instead of hitting a punching bag, but Alaric is in for a bad time. Hope uses all her time for painting, school, sex, and training. The headmaster experiences firsthand just how good Hope has gotten.

She doesn’t hold back, throwing punches like she really wants to hurt him.

“Why are you so angry?” Alaric asks.

Hope only gets more annoyed and tries even harder.

“Is it because Roman left?”

He hits the floor right after he said this, not seeing the uppercut coming.

“He left?” Hope sounds surprised and helps him up. “I don’t think you should spar with me. Someday I’ll accidently kill you.”

“He left yesterday,” Alaric answers, stars still covering his vision. “I thought you knew since… you know…”

“We’re fucking?”

“Language, Hope,” he scolds.

She smiles and says, “I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

“Oh.”

“Anything else you want to ask me?”

The overdramatic sigh tells her that there is a lot he wanted to say, but she isn’t in the mood to hear it, though.

“You know what? Don’t waste the time and air. Tell yourself and everyone what you need in order to sleep better, but please leave me alone.”

She storms off before he can say anything.

“Hope, wait.” He’s running after her. She doesn’t stop and soon they were in the crowded hallways.

“Stop, please.”

“What?” Finally stopping, she faces him with the most annoyed face she has.

A few students are stealing glances at the headmaster and the Mikaelson girl. Covered in sweat and breathing heavily, the sight makes for a hilarious rumor.

“Hope, listen, okay?”

She rolls her eyes which he takes as confirmation to go on.

“I know what you are doing. I know self destructive behavior. Please let me help, talk to Emma or someone. We have people to help you. Please get help.”

His stomach turns when he hears her hollow laugh. “You don’t get it.”

“I don’t? What is this then if not a cry for attention?” he shoots back.

“I’m just having fun. Maybe you should try that. When was the last time you got laid? Please tell me there was someone since the twins were born.”

“This isn’t about me. I know you, Hope, and I know your family. You always had troubles with your emotions. We can help you.” Alaric reaches out his hand and gives her his most compassionate face.

She sees the students that are watching them and thinks about kissing him, just to humiliate him.

“I’m gonna say this once and I hope you will understand it. I don’t care what you think, I don’t care about the help you’re offering. Just let me do my thing. As long as I don’t break the rules, my business is just that, my business, not yours. Understood?”

“Hope,” he sighs.

“Leave. Me. Alone,” Hope says and walks away.

There are rumors of Hope and the headmaster making out, some idiots were obviously having fun with ruining her and, sadly, his reputation even more. Everyone in the school knows about it. Luckily for the headmaster, most don’t believe the rumors.

Lizzie and Josie tell everyone that it isn’t true.

Hope is alone at a table, hearing the gossip about her. Some call her whore, disgusting and all sorts of things. She doesn’t care. She never did.

Maybe the rumors do affect her in some small way, she thinks. Considering how she is asking herself which guy would be best in bed, yeah, they probably are.

It’s just this emptiness inside her, the need to fill it with something, but nothing ever does. It’s an everlasting emptiness, rarely, with the right activity, does it goes away for some time, but it always comes back.

So her thoughts drift to sex again, one of the few things that help.

Without hesitating, she speaks to the first guy she thinks might be good and convinces him to have sex with her. It’s the first time she tries anal and her first threesome. And it’s bloody fantastic. Feeling them both inside her at the same time, she feels alive. She feels, and it’s great.

The roughness, the pain, she feels it. The more feelings, the better it is.

She doesn’t care that people see the weird way she is walking or that know anything about her.

She doesn’t care. She misses when she did.

And she hates that. She hates herself for not caring, for not feeling anything.

Closing the door to her room behind her, she walks to her bathroom in desperate need of a shower since her smell isn’t pleasant, to say it nicely. Once in the bathroom, Hope stops when she sees herself in the mirror.

Tousled auburn hair, blue eyes that start to tear up, dead expression.

Her lips start trembling and she clenches her fist. She gets so angry at the girl who she is seeing in the mirror.

A tear rolls over her face.

She smashes the mirror with a punch, cracking the glass. She hits it again and again and again. Even after the mirror is completely destroyed, sprawled out in thousand tiny pieces, she keeps punching the wall. Her knuckles are bleeding and her vision blurry from the tears in her eyes.

She screams. In her rage she rips out the faucet and throws it against the shower, destroying the glass door.

Feeling absolutely terrible and overwhelmed, she vomits. The vomiting first started after she first killed someone and has been her loyal companion ever since.

Moving out of the bathroom, nothing is left unharmed. The blood of her knuckles is left on the walls as she punches everything that comes in her vision. Pausing when sees the painting she made after Freya and Keelin’s weeding, one of her favorite paintings, Hope picks it up and looks at it, inspecting each part. The next moment the painting was thrown against the wall. Multiple times. She steps on it and rips it apart, the sight of her united family breaking her heart.

Her breathing is out of control, shallow and way too fast. She lets out another scream. The windows are destroyed by her magic. Pain in her wrist makes her growl, her hand broken after punching the wall again.

Nothing is left unharmed in her rage. The destruction of her room continues for minutes until her eyes land on a painting. Hanging above her bed is a picture of New Orleans, the moon illuminating the city – it’s her father’s.

She raises her hand and stares at it with hatred in her eyes. Her muscle under strain as her right arm is in punching position.

“COME ON!” she screams as her arm shakes under the pressure.

She can’t. She can’t do it.

She can’t destroy her father’s painting.

She hates herself for it, for her weakness.

Sobs fill the silence in her room after she sat down.

She hates him for leaving her. She hates him for abandoning her. She hates him for his absence in her life.

But even more, she hates herself and she doesn’t feel anything else, only suffocating hatred for him, for herself, for the whole fucking world.

Only numbness is left.

Crying the whole night, she feels. She feels horrible.

She wasn’t in class the following day, instead opting to go the gym, doing one of the few things that still bring her any pleasure.

Her hand is still broken. Using magic to slow the healing process down so that she could feel the pain that each punch sent through her body, she is training, if you can evn call it that. She wants to feel the pain.

She’d rather feel pain than nothing at all.

Everything is better that the numbness, even the hatred is better.

Everything.

Except sadness.

If she hates one thing more than not feeling anything at all, it’s sadness. She is so tired of being sad. She never wants to feel that emotion again.

Expanding her almost endless energy, she is in the gym for a long time.

“Who pissed you off?” Lizzie is standing behind Hope, watching her trash the punching bag.

“I’d recommend you to shut up unless you want to be used as a punching bag,” Hope replies without looking at her, only focused on hitting the punching bag again and again.

“I’m not scared of a little midget.”

“YOU ARE-“ Hope closes her eyes and takes a deep breath when she sees how Lizzie flinches at her outburst. With a calm voice, “You are very foolish if you aren’t afraid,” she says.

Is that really concern in her eyes? Is Lizzie really concerned about her? Aw, how cute.

“Hope, are… are you okay?” the siphoner asks.

“Since when do you care?”

“Pf, don’t you think to highly of yourself, I still hate you.”

“What do you want?” the tribrid - or still hybrid, at this point - asks.

“Well, we have been searching you,” Lizzie explains.

“Why? And who’s we?”

“There have been complaints about you last night. You know, about you screaming and punching the walls and destroying windows.”

Turning around, she starts hitting the punching bag again, grimacing in pain.

“And you haven’t been in class so dad sent me and Josie to find you.”

“So you are only here because your father sent you. Tell him to leave me alone,” Hope answers angrily.

“He can’t just dismiss student complaints,” Lizzie says, knowing that Hope is aware of that. “These weren’t the first complaints about you either. He can’t ignore them forever, not even for you.” Her voice takes a jealous tone at the end.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hope doesn’t turn around to face Lizzie, but she slows down to hear her better.

“Oh please, we both know about his special treatment for you,” Lizzie says.

“I didn’t ask him to treat me any differently than everyone else.” It’s the truth; he chose to treat her like a special case just because she is a Mikaelson, because he was afraid of how she could turn out to be. Maybe his concerns were justified.

The punching bag rips out of the fortification after Hope hit it with all her strength.

She is terrifyingly strong, Lizzie thinks, and completely unstable.

“Trust me I have asked myself many times why my father likes you so much,” Lizzie replies bitterly.

“What does he want?” Hope sighs and turns around to look at Lizzie now that the punching bag is gone.

“He just wanted us to check on you, to see if you are ok.”

“Great, you did your job. You can go now,” Hope replies. 

“Want a training partner?” Lizzie asks, a smirk on her face.

The question surprises Hope, just for a second. “You want your pretty face kicked in?”

“Already complimenting me, Mikaelson?” Lizzie continues smirking.

“I guess you must really hate yourself.” Lizzie is certainly very beautiful, Hope thinks.

Lizzie scoffs. “Stop acting like you are the best fighter ever. My father also trains me, so don’t underestimate me.”

“Are you gonna talk forever?” Hope asks with a bored voice and raised eyebrows.

The siphoner puts on some MMA gloves and faces off with Hope, her confident grin in stark contrast to Hope’s bored expression.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Hope says before they start.

Lizzie’s confidence diminished with each punch she is throwing, Hope lazily blocking and dodging every attack.

Grabbing both legs since she doesn’t want to kick her pretty face in, Hope slams Lizzie on the ground. She traps Lizzie’s legs with her own, squeezing them together, and further traps one of Lizzie’s arms under the siphoner’s body while pressing the other one down with her right hand.

If Hope wanted to, she could have easily punched the shit out of her with her free left hand.

“Where’s that confidence, Saltzman? I just beat you without throwing a single punch.”

“Why are you always such an asshole?” Lizzie tries to free herself from the position, but to no avail, Hope’s weight pressing her down and she can’t get her legs out.

“Why are you always such a bitch?” Hope replies.

“I’m a bitch? I am not the one who is sleeping with every student and teacher.”

“I didn’t sleep with a single teacher. I might have daddy issues, but I’m not into older men.”

“And? You’re still a slut,” Lizzie says.

“Oh, you have never had hate sex, you’d love it,” Hope responds with a smirk, still pressing Lizzie down. Looking down on the siphoner, Hope feels an urge to kiss her, to know how a woman would feel like. Would she prefer girls over boys? She’s not sure but she wants to find out.

“What is wrong with you? I always thought I am messed up but you are on another level.”

“I’m just taking what I want,” Hope whispers, leaning down so that her mouth is next to Lizzie’s ear. The warm breath raises the hair on Lizzie’s neck and sends chills down her spine.

“What do you want?” Lizzie asks breathlessly.

Rolling her eyes, Hope pushes herself back up to look at the siphoner. “More like who I want.”

“The whole football team at the same time?” Lizzie’s sarcasm isn’t gone only because Hope is on top of her and seemingly flirting with her.

“Jealous?”

Lizzie burst out laughing. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because many of them got to fuck me.”

Gulping, Lizzie notices Hope’s eyes glancing back and forth between her eyes and mouth.

“You aren’t that hot,” Lizzie says as Hope gets closer.

“Liar,” she whispers, her lips right above Lizzie’s. Her eyes seek confirmation, finding it in a small nod.

Closing the small distance, she brings their lips together.

The kiss isn’t soft or caring; it’s harsh and hungry, full of years of mutual dislike.

Hope and Lizzie have sex in the gym. Someone could have walked in on them. Maybe someone did. They wouldn’t have notice, too busy with each other.

It’s different with a girl, feeling a girl’s hands on her body. They are softer, knowing.

And it feels more personal, maybe because she has known Lizzie since she was seven years old. The sex isn’t violent or painful at all, like it was with many of the boys. It is far from loving or caring either.

Hope almost feels bad – almost - because she leaves Lizzie after the sex.

“Wow,” Lizzie is catching her breath. “I understand why everyone wants you. Hey, what are you doing?”

“I’m getting dressed and then I’m gonna take a shower. I really need one,” Hope answers, sounding bored, like she has given the answer countless times.

“What does that mean for… us?” Lizzie asks uncertainly.

Hope’s head snaps to the siphoner, an incredulous look on her face. “Us? Lizzie, there is no us.”

“So this meant nothing?” Lizzie can’t keep the hurt out of her voice. “My first time meant nothing,” she says more to herself than to Hope.

“Absolutely nothing. Welcome to the club.” Hope sees how her words hurt Lizzie.

She hates that she has the power to hurt her and she hates herself for using this power.

She hates herself for not caring one bit about her.

Surprisingly or rather unsurprisingly, there are no talks about Hope and the headmaster’s daughter the next morning, only the normal gossip going around. Hope, the school slut, almost forgotten by the next drama.


	2. Sleepwalking

“I can’t believe it,” Alaric says. He has been pacing around in his office for minutes, repeating the words like they are a mantra. “I cannot – no- how could you become this person? How could this sweet, innocent seven year old girl turn out like that? How could you become such a-“

“Disappointment? Massive failure? Slut?”

“If your –“

“Alaric,” Hope warns him.

“What? Are you threatening me? Or do you want to seduce me? What twisted idea can your Mikaelson mind come up with?” Alaric has rarely been so furious with a student before and Hope’s bitchiness pisses him off.

“That’s what this is about?” Hope laughs. “You are playing disappointed daddy because I am like my family? You should have known better than to believe that you could change anything.”

“You’re right. I should have known better. I should have known that there isn’t a single good Mikaelson on this goddamn earth. I thought that you would be better. I thought that with the right guidance and with a little help, you could be a good Mikaelson.” He closes his eyes in effort calm himself down. “I foolishly thought that you could prove me wrong, that you … I have never been so wrong in my life.”

Hope has to sit there with chains around her hands that are suppressing her magic. She has had to listen to his rant for ten minutes and she has enough.

“What now?” She stands up and gets close to him. “Do you want to punish me?” she asks in a mocking voice. “Wanna be my daddy? I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”

“Get Out. Now.”

She smirks. “Gladly.” She flicks her wrist and the chains fall off. “The chains don’t work, by the way.”

It all started with a simple party. It was Penelope Park’s birthday. Penelope, being from a powerful and influential coven, has a few privileges that other students do not have - throwing a birthday party being one of those privileges.

Hope is fifteen years old, two and a half months away from her sixteenth birthday when the party happens.

Penelope and Hope aren’t friends, so Hope doesn’t plan on going to the party and she isn’t the biggest fan of the parties at the school anyways. Parties in NOLA, sure, but not these weird school parties.

Besides, she wants to spend the evening with Jed - hot werewolf sex and all. He doesn’t have time for her, though, cancelling their appointment and therefore leaving her evening open, and she is desperate to feel something. For a moment she considers doing her maths homework, she loves mathematics (and hates physics), but decides against it.

She already drinks a bit of whiskey before even leaving her room, just to make the party more bearable.

Walking through the crowd, not minding the looks people give her, she searches for someone, someone who can get her to feel. Even with or maybe because of the alcohol in her body, she moves graciously, stopping at the railing and looking down onto the people on the dance floor.

She sees Penelope’s minions, looking smug as ever. Penelope, on the other hand, is on her phone, looking distressed, but her friends don’t seem to notice.

Josie and Lizzie are dancing with two guys, Rafael and M.G., seemingly having fun.

Jason is making out with his new girlfriend.

Her eyes fall on Mr. Peterson. The Chemistry of Magic teacher had been a riddle for her until she did some research on him.

He always treats her differently, always asking her questions that she shouldn’t know the answer to and always frustrated when she does know the answer. As if he could teach her anything; her uncle Kol basically taught her everything about chemistry related magic.

He is a vampire, turned by Rebekah Mikaelson. His family was killed by Klaus.

His presence is a constant reminder of what her family has done to so many people, just for their entertainment. And now this poor guy has to babysit drunken students.

Shaking her head and trying to get him out of her head, Hope scans the room again in search for something, someone. Rafael is sitting alone, Lizzie having moved on to another boy, so Hope decides to talk to him. 

“Lizzie left you, huh?” she asks.

“Mhm. What about you? Why are you alone?”

“Are you interested?”

“In what?”

“Sex,” she says, observing his face. He doesn’t even look too surprised, more amused than anything. She might have told a lie when she said she wasn’t interested. “Well?” she goes on when he doesn’t reply.

“You’re quite confident, aren’t you?” he chuckles. “Always taking what you want, hm?”

“If you’re not interested, just say it.”

“We could just talk,” he replies.

“We could, yes, but why?”

“Alright,” he says, nodding and taking a look at Lizzie. “She’ll be pissed when she finds out.” 

“Then don’t tell her,” Hope replies, taking his hand and dragging him along with her werewolf strength. She takes him to a public restroom. The tight space makes it very uncomfortable.

“Why didn’t we go to your room with a comfy bed?” Rafael wonders.

“Already did it in beds. It’s time for something new,” she answers teasingly.

Rafael might just be the best one yet. Maybe it’s the combination of alcohol, the desperation to feel something, and him, but whatever the reason may be, it’s bloody amazing.

She feels.

She feels incredible in this moment.

Taking a moment to cool off, still high on her orgasm after the werewolf already left, she is about to leave when the door is pushed open. Penelope is running past her and she is crying.

Hope sighs as Penelope locks herself in a cabin. Listening to her cries, Hope silently opens the door with a simple spell and leads Penelope out of the room, into her arms. She holds her until she stops crying and pulls her close again when Penelope starts crying again.

The witch eventually untangles herself from Hope.

“Hope?” she says after wiping tears away. Of all the people Penelope expected to comfort her it was certainly not Hope Mikaelson.

“I hate this name,” Hope replies with a smile. It’s such an unfitting name. Her parents couldn’t have come up with something more unfitting if they tried to.

“Okay?” the witch asks, unsure what to make of the situation.

“Do you want to go back to your party?” Hope asks.

“No?”

“Do you want to be alone?”

The look on Penelope’s face tells Hope that she absolutely does not want to be alone.

“Do you want me to get someone?”

“There is no one,” Penelope answers, dejected.

“I see.” Hope is not surprised. “Well, let’s leave, then. The party is boring anyway.

They leave, Hope leading the way despite not knowing where Penelope’s room is.

“What’s your room number?” she finally asks because the witch kept quiet.

“206.”

“You made the note.” She elaborates at Penelope’s questioning gaze. “Someone slipped a note under the bathroom door when I was… stressed.”

“That was you?”

“You always give vomiting girls your room number?”

“Only the hot ones.”

“You insult me. I’m hotter than just hot,” Hope says with a smirk on her face.

“That’s not your achievement, you just have good genes.”

“Oh and your beauty doesn’t come from your parents?”

“Can we not talk about my family, please?” Penelope asks.

“Sure. What do you want to talk about, sweetheart?”

Arriving at Penelope’s room, the witch opens it with a spell.

“Sweetheart? I guess your reputation is true.”

“My reputation?”

Penelope lets herself fall face first on her bed and gestures to the empty space next to her, ordering Hope to sit.

Hope lies down next to her and Penelope turns to her side, facing the tribrid.

“You know, hot, sorry, hotter than hot, powerful girl who does what she wants.”

“Oh this, I thought you were talking about something else.”

“Like the fact that you are the school slut and completely fucked up?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t think you want to talk about it,” Penelope says.

“I don’t give a shit,” Hope answers honestly.

“Why not?”

“Why should I?”

“You don’t care what everybody thinks about you? Must be nice.”

“Ah, your family cares so much about the opinions of other people, right? You can never be yourself because you have to be the good girl.”

“You are not only hot but smart, must be awesome being you.”

Hope replies with a shrug and sits up. Penelope does the same. They lock eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything of what your family wants,” Hope says.

“I don’t? If I don’t behave, they will force me to leave the school and they will disown me.”

“You love your family?” Hope asks.

“Sometimes,” Penelope says laughingly. “Most of the time they annoy the shit out of me but they are still my parents.”

“Have they called you?”

“Why should they?”

“Because it is your birthday.”

Penelope doesn’t need to answer, the way she avoids Hope’s gaze is telling enough.

“Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Penelope still doesn’t look at Hope but she smiles a little. “Do you think anyone is missing me?”

“Oh, I bet the whole school is searching you. Imagine the rumors when they realize that we have been together.” Penelope’s eyes turn huge at the thought. “Relax, love, no one needs to know that. You go back to your party and I’ll cloak myself and leave.”

“You would do this for me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you are Hope Mikaelson.”

“Ouch.”

“Oh please.”

“Yes, I will do this for you, Penelope Park.”

“Thank you very much, Hope Andrea Mikaelson.” Penelope grins. “And thank you for,” she pauses and gestures around, trying to find the right word, “this.”

“You’re welcome.”

The two become friends after this night. They never openly hang out because a Park can’t be seen with the school slut. They start sleeping with each other - friends with benefits.

Hope was surprised by Penelope’s inexperience. You’d think that Penelope had some fun with all her minions. However, Penelope is a fast learner and she is good, oh so very good. It doesn’t take long for Hope to stop sleeping around, since Penelope is all she needs.

From all the people at the school, Hope likes Penelope by far the best. The witch is witty and hot and caring, the whole package, honestly.

No relationship, just sex and some late hour conversations or drinking sessions.

Hope spends most of her time in her room doing homework, painting, and avoiding people.

Only Penelope comes to see her when she is stressed. Hope always comforts her or does more when the witch needs it. They rarely talk about Hope. She is grateful for that. She doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Telling Emma some made up shit every week is enough.

She finds herself doing maths for hours. The more advanced math her teacher gave her one day occupied her for weeks. Physics are still a pain in the ass. It amuses Penelope a lot, her love for maths and hate for physics.

“Maths is just the language for physics,” she says.

“And? Doesn’t mean I have to like this shit.”

They are in Hope’s room. It is way past curfew, so it’s dangerous for Penelope to sneak back in her room. Since she doesn’t want to get caught or rather she doesn’t want her parents to be notified about her misdemeanour, she stays in Hope’s room for the night.

Hope, being used to not doing homework until the very last possible moment, sits at her desk and suffers through solving these stupid homework while having to hear Penelope’s comments.

“Sure, it’s just funny that you are good at the one and suck at the other. I mean, it’s basically the same thing.”

“I don’t suck at physics,” Hope says, turning around to glare at the witch. She is on top of her class in every subject that has anything supernatural or historical in it and she is great at all the other subjects, too; it’s just physics that gives her a headache. “And obviously they are different.”

“Maths, physics,” Penelope shrugs, “same thing for me. And I don’t have problems with the homework.”

“If you don’t wanna help me, at least shut up and let me concentrate.”

“Oh, am I distracting you?” Penelope asks teasingly.

“Not now,” Hope replies. “I need to get this done.”

“Or what? You’re gonna fail your class?” They both know that the idea is ridiculous; Penelope just wants Hope to relax. 

“It’s not about the class, it’s about my ego,” Hope says and silences all arguments.

“But I’m bored,” she whines.

“Silencio.”

Hope is drowned in math problems, unfinished paintings, Penelope and doing homework. She doesn’t even have time to go after all her other interests. Self hatred and loneliness almost disappear in the stress of her day to day life - almost.

The school had the fabulous idea of starting a dueling class, which means even less free time for Hope. Being a tribrid really sucks, since she has to do the work of all classes and that leaves her with next to no free time.

But honestly, she really liked the idea - until the first lesson, at least. The thought of being able to practice the little amount of combat related magic in something resembling a fight was thrilling, but she soon realized that this class was not teaching them anything close to reality.

And to make it worse, instead of being paired with someone like Penelope, who is at least somewhere close to her magical skill level, she is paired up with Alyssa Cheng.

“You’re really bad at this.”

This stupid bitch - Hope really hates her - either refuses or intentionally botches the spells, simply to annoy Hope.

“Chill, it’s not a real fight.”

One and a half lessons - that is how long Hope was able to control her temper.

“You are so incompetent. I thought you’d be good at this. Apparently you don't have your family's witch genes."

"I guess every family has a black sheep."

"Don't let them see you or they'll die of embarassment.”

Only on the second day of this freshly started dueling class, Hope lost her temper and bested Alyssa with a curse, sending her to the infirmary.

Ranting and scolding and a lot of talking - Hope stops listening to her teacher. Alyssa will be fine, should be fine…

Hope sighs. Yes, she messed up, she knows it. The fact that Alyssa managed to get under her skin annoys and disappoints her. Even then, even with Alyssa insulting her family, Hope should not have used such a strong spell, a curse that they aren’t taught at school.

If they were at least taught how to shield against curses, Hope wouldn’t feel so bad because then Alyssa could have defended herself, but Alaric, or whoever decides what a witch should learn, thought it would be better to not teach them that. Teaching how to shield against dark curses would require also teaching about said curses and of course, that’s just not happening.

So Hope basically attacked a helpless victim.

Distantly, she hears the teacher send her to the principal.

“Detention and you help out in the library for a month,” Alaric tells her. He looks so incredibly disappointed.

“I don’t have time for that,” she replies truthfully. “Like, really, I have no time whatsoever.”

“You will have to take time, Hope,” he says, not empathetic to her predicament in the slightest. “Maybe you shouldn’t put your classmates in the infirmary, just an idea. And maiming curses? Do that again and I _will _expel you,” he threatens. “You could have permanently crippled her.”

“It’s not like Alyssa is innocent.”

“And you are not anyone! How long have we trained for situations like this? You have a big responsibility. Your power is already scary and nobody knows how strong you can get, so you have to keep it together, Hope.”

“I know,” she mumbles.

“Then why are we here? Why do I need to tell you this?”

“Could you please stop being so condescending? Whose ideas was it to start this class? Who partnered me with Alyssa? I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that you are behind this. Why? Wanted to test me?”

His silence is answer enough.

“You don’t trust me anymore,” she realizes.

Sighing, he sits down and rubs his temple. “Hope, please talk to me.” He uses his sad dad voice.

“There is nothing to talk about.”

“We both know that this isn’t true.”

“Maybe you should talk to someone. All this stress of-“

“Stop. Can you drop this act for five minutes?” he asks, sounding tired.

“Act?”

“Yes, act. You act like you are fine, like how you aren’t consumed by sadness and anger. Sleeping around, hurting your classmates, I know that this isn’t you and it is my fault. I should have realized that the death of your parents had a deeper effect than I had anticipated. I’m sorry for not helping you sooner.”

“You have nothing to apologize for and you are wrong, I’m not consumed by anger and sadness.”

“What is it then? Help me understand.”

“You are a good man,” she says and stands up, walking to the door.

“Hope?”

Turning back, she glances at him, waiting for him to say something. He sighs and tells her that she can go, seemingly giving up this conversation. She knows he wouldn’t leave her alone, he probably never will.

She goes to her room and paints.

Alaric is wrong. Either she feels nothing at all or she feels so much and so many emotions at the same time that she is completely overwhelmed. Sex is a way to feel or to stop the feelings. The same goes for painting and fighting.

She almost ruined someone’s life. The spell she used, it’s not easily healable by vampire blood. If it’s not treated immediately, the damage will be permanent.

And she does feel bad, a little, but she thinks it’s not enough. She should feel more, but she doesn’t.

Hope – what a joke of a name. Her parents couldn’t have given her a more ironic name. She is no one’s Hope. She breaks hearts and ruins lives.

She hurts people.

“Why did you help me that night?” Penelope asks her one night after they had sex, three weeks away from Hope’s birthday.

“You were crying,” Hope replies.

“That is all?” Penelope sounds disappointed and looks away.

“Should there be more?”

“No, I just thought… whatever, doesn’t matter.”

“Please don’t tell me you have feelings for me,” Hope says.

Penelope avoids Hope’s eyes for a moment. “Would that be so bad?” she answers, looking into Hope’s eyes. A million thoughts seem to pass Hope’s mind, her face in a mix of fear and denial.

“Why? What made you think I have any interest in –“

“Me.”

“In a relationship.”

“Oh, but fucking around is okay?”

“Yeah, fucking around was okay, just like fucking you is okay. And, just saying, you have been the only one I’ve been sleeping with in the last weeks. Why does it have to be more than that?”

“You are the only person that gives a shit about me,” Penelope says.

“You have like, ten million friends, surely someone cares about you.”

“Come on Hope, you know that these guys aren’t friends. They don’t care about me, just my name.”

Hope presses her fingers against her eyes. “Your parents would never allow this,” she says.

“You are avoiding, Hope.”

“I don’t want to be in a relationship with you and I don’t have feelings for you, okay? I have no idea why you have any for me.”

“Right, because Hope Mikaelson doesn’t get attached to anyone or lets anyone in,” Penelope replies bitterly. “We hardly ever talked about you, but I have eyes. I can see how you push everyone away. You are the most fucked up person I know.”

“And yet you still fall for me. What does this say about you? Maybe you need neglectful people in your life.”

“Hope-“

“You sat here and complained about your parents, about how they never call and how they don’t care about you and then you end up falling for someone who doesn’t care about you. It’s pathetic, honestly.”

“Stop,” Penelope says with tears in her eyes.

“Stop with what? Telling the truth?”

“You are as pathetic as I am,” Penelope counters angrily. You act like you care about nothing, but in reality you care so fucking much about everything. That is why you push everyone away,” she pauses, shaking her head.

Quietly, she continues, “You can’t stand the thought of letting someone in and caring about them. You are so scared. Yeah right, Hope Mikaelson, you are fucking scared of letting people in, of losing people. You believe that everyone will leave you like your daddy.”

“Are you done?” Hope asks in a cold, bored tone.

“What is wrong with you?” Penelope angrily pushes her against the wall. 

“I’m bored of you, of you and your stupid feelings.”

The sound is the first thing Hope notices, the slight pain and the surprise that Penelope slapped her comes second.

Hope laughs. “Did your parents do this to you when you misbehaved?”

A spell that leaves a cut on her cheek hits her.

“Feeling better?”

“Shut up.”

“Wanna have sex?” Hope asks, blood from the almost healed cut flowing over her face.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I thought you may want to enjoy the one moment when you lose your composure and when you are not the perfect little girl your parents want you to be.”

“You are crazy.”

“Probably.”

They have sex for one last time. Hate sex. The best they ever had.

Penelope leaves, saying that she never wants to talk to her again.

Hope throws up after eating lunch. Why she still eats is a mystery for her.

She paints in her room until the feeling of losing her only friend, the only person she cares about in this school, settles in.

She lost her only meaningful emotional connection – her family would be proud. No, they wouldn’t. But she is one of them. Always pushing the people away that love you or that you love.

While she doesn’t love Penelope, she did love having someone in her life, someone who was always there and who wasn’t judging her.

It’s in the middle of the night when Hope goes to the gym. She trains until she can’t feel her arms and legs anymore.

Why does she still go to school?

Why does she exist?

Why should she continue living?

_I’m going back to school and I’ll be okay. _

Yeah right.

“Proud of me, daddy?” she says while looking at the ceiling, feeling silly at pretending that he’d look over her.

Would anyone miss me? Would anyone care? She wonders.

The sun is rising when Hope leaves the gym. She sleeps for five hours and skips classes.

A knock on her door wakes her up.

“You look … tired.”

“Thanks, Jo, that is what every woman wants to hear.”

“I thought you don’t care. Isn’t that what you tell everyone?” Josie asks.

“Can I help you or are you just here to annoy me?”

“I don’t want to be here either but for some miraculous reason my dad cares about you and he always sends me and Lizzie to find you when you decide to do something stupid.”

“Sorry that your dad cares about me.”

“Oh, thank you for your heartfelt apology. Means so much coming from you,” Josie replies sarcastically.

“How does it feel having a father that cares more about some student than his own daughters?”

“Screw you,” Josie snarls, about to walk away.

“What happened to you? A few weeks ago you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me and now you look at me with more disgust than Lizzie.”

“Don’t act dumb. I know what you did to Lizzie.”

“She told you.”

“Of course she did. We are twins, we tell each other everything.”

“Is that so?”

Josie sighs, not in the mood to play Hope’s games. “Is there something you’re referring to?”

“Nothing.” She leans against the door frame. “So I assume Lizzie knows you started the rumors about her and that you started the fire in my room?”

“Yo- you know?”

“Wasn’t hard to figure out,” Hope says, rolling her eyes.

Silence.

“Do I really have to ask you to explain?” Josie asks.

For the first time in days Hope smiles - a genuine smile. “You are cute when you are annoyed.”

“Don’t distract,” Josie says with a quiet voice, feeling tiny in Hope’s presence.

“I knew you had a thing for me. You weren’t exactly subtle with all your longing stares. I didn’t set my room on fire, so I did a spell to see who it was.” She shakes her head a little at the thought. “A note? Really? I always thought that you have more confidence.”

Josie had been feeling very uncomfortable during the whole conversation but the uncomfortable level reached a peak at this moment.

“I am. Just not with you. You have this crazy ability to make everyone feel small and powerless.”

“I don’t know whether this is a compliment or an insult.”

“Probably both.”

“As lovely as this little chat is, do you need something because I really need some sleep,” Hope says.

“Not really. I’ll just tell my dad that you are your typical asshole self.”

“Sweet. And you can tell him that he can stop sending you or Lizzie to check on me. It’s stupid.”

“Will do.”

Josie is about to leave and Hope about to go back to sleep when Josie says, “Hope, can I ask you something?”

“That already is a question but go on.”

“Why are you here? At this school. There are so many people who would love to attend this school. It’s a home for so many people but you seem to hate it and there is no reason for you to stay. So I guess my question is: What the hell are you doing here?”

Hope remains silent for a moment. “Josette Saltzman, always asking the good questions,” she replies and walks into her room, closing the door and leaving Josie outside.

This girl is a nightmare, Josie thinks, as she walks away. Why is she still so attracted to her? She shouldn’t be. A good sister would not be feeling like this.

Fucking Hope Mikaelson and her magnetic persona. She should start a cult or something.

Josie’s words hit her. Why is she here? Well, getting her graduation is what she is doing.

But that is not the question. What is she doing _her, Salvatore Boarding School for the Young and Gifted?_

At first she attended the school because her family was split. Her mom didn’t know where to go and she thought Hope needed friends. She came back to the school because her family was irreversibly split, forever broken.

Thanks to her.

She killed her mom.

Not technically, but she is the reason her mom is dead – it is her fault.

Her father died for her. Because she did something stupid and he had to safe her. Her monster of a father did something for her after years of absence. 7 years of no contact. He left her with her mom for basically her whole life.

Then he left her again when she got him back.

Maybe he just hates her.

It’s the best explanation she has because she doesn’t know why he would leave her.

No, he did it because he loved her. That is what everyone always tells her. She knows that they are right but it is easier to pretend that he hated her. It is easier to hate him.

Because she has to hate herself if she doesn’t hate him.

If her father indeed sacrificed himself out of love, so that she could live, then she has to hate herself for wasting his sacrifice. For spitting on his image and the name he gave her.

Hope.

It’s is Hope that killed him. Hope for his family and a better future.

Thousand years old, never defeated by an enemy, and he dies because of hope.

So does her mother.

And her uncle. For no reason. He probably didn’t want to deal with her. Not without Hayley or Klaus. No, he would rather leave her too, because there weren’t enough people that left her already.

Even her grandfather, Ansel, died because of her. And Dahlia. And Esther. And Mikael. Because they all posed a threat to her.

And hundreds or thousands of people that her family killed in the name of protecting her.

How is she supposed to live with that? So many people lost their loves because of Hope Mikaelson.

The brush in her hand is flying over the canvas.

How is she supposed to live with this burden? So many lives ended for her. And what does she do to justify the murders, to at least pretend that these murders weren’t pointless?

She hurts people every chance she gets. She has hate sex. She lives out her daddy issues.

She is just like her monster father - only with a lower kill count.

Oh God, she killed someone.

The thought makes her vomit, almost forgotten in all her self-loathing.

Funny how the brain protects one form traumatic experiences, but it is completely overwhelmed when the experience resurfaces.

Her erratic thoughts and her painting come to an end. Painting has always been the best way for her to calm down. She goes back to sleep in the middle of the day.

She dreams. A nightmare.

Her family is there, all of them. That is how she knows that it is a dream, because there is no reality in which they are all together.

She sees her father. He is angry, so angry. He kills her. It’s an accident and oh so real.

She closes her eyes in her dream, dying in his arms, and opens her teary eyes in the real world.

Grabbing the bucket next to her bed, she throws up and sits shivering in her bed afterwards.

Out, she needs to get out, away.

Frantically, she stands up and leaves her room.

She runs. Past doors and students. Out of the school

Opening the school car with her magic and somehow starting it with her magic too, no idea how, she drives and drives, still crying, feeling nothing and everything. She doesn’t know what is real anymore.

_He is dead. It was just a dream,_ she tries to assure herself but it feels so real. His screams when he was angry and his sobs when he killed her. She can’t un-see and un-hear them.

She drives for an hour, stopping at a gas station, calming a little.

Stepping out of the car, she walks around, fresh oxygen clearing her head.

What is she doing?

She looks at her phone and sees 5 missed calls and 12 text messages, all from Alaric, probably wondering what the heck happened. She turns the phone off and sits down; leaning against the car, head in her hands.

Fuck.

“You look pretty lost,” a male voice says.

Looking up, she sees a man in his early forties.

“I bet you have somewhere to be,” Hope replies.

“Nothing important enough to not stop and help a crying girl.”

“You don’t plan on kidnapping and raping or murdering me, do you?”

He chuckles at that. “No, I did not plan on doing that but if that is what you want…”

“You aren’t a normal forty years old man, are you?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I’m fifty.”

“You look good for fifty.”

“I know. And no, I’m probably not a normal guy, but honestly, who is?”

“Fair enough.”

“What’s your name,” he asks after a moment of awkward silence.

“Andrea.” She isn’t sure why she chooses her second name; it was just easier to say, felt more natural.

“Theodor.”

“Nice to meet you Theo.”

“So, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“Alright, I’m here because I have to refuel. You know, like you do at a gas station.”

“You are too old to be a smart ass,” she says.

“And you are too young to be crying alone at a gas station.”

“Fifteen too young to cry?”

“Fifty too old to have fun?”

“Why are you talking with me?”

“Why not?”

“This conversation is kinda pointless,” Hope says.

“Problem with that?” he asks.

“I’m loving it.”

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere? School or whatever?”

She shrugs, glancing at her phone. “It is 5 pm, school is over.”

“What about your parents?”

“I don’t think they care.”

“So no one who is missing you?”

“Probably not.”

“I don’t believe that. Surely there is someone who misses you right now.”

“Even if there is, I don’t care.”

She is still sitting and leaning against the car.

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere?”

“I got here on my own,” Hope points out.

“You probably shouldn’t have and you have been sitting here for quite some time. You don’t have money to refuel,” he concludes.

“Don’t look so smug, wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” he says while holding his hand out.

“Where are you heading to?”

“Wherever life takes me.”

She rolls her eyes at his reply. “Wanna make a deal?”

“Go on, Andrea.”

The name doesn’t feel right but still way better than Hope.

“I don’t want to go back. Not right now. I say you take me wherever life takes you and I’ll stay there for a couple of days. You can drive me back afterwards.”

He thinks about it for a second, not long, and agrees. They drive for like an hour, mostly in silence. She only now realizes how he calmed her down and pulled her out of her state.

Stopping at another gas station by her request, she pukes her heart out. He buys her water and a snack.

She sees his concerned look and wonders why he is helping her. They arrive at a motel when it is almost dark outside.

“Goodnight, Andrea.”

They go to their rooms.

“Night, Theo.”

She thinks about stealing his car and running away, but dismisses the thought since he was nothing but nice and where would she go anyways?

So instead, she gets her phone and turns it on.

14 missed calls, 39 messages. Not only Alaric but Freya and the twins and Kol and even one from Penelope.

She put a cloaking spell on herself when she had felt the locator spells on her earlier that day.

‘I’m alive. I’ll be back in a few days.’

She sends Alaric the message and she tells him the location of his car in another one.

She also sends her aunt and uncle a text, saying she is fine and that they don’t need to worry about her.

Turning her phone off again, she wonders what to do now without any art supplies, fuck buddies and gyms.

She relaxes and goes into the safe space of her mind palace, wandering around.

Funnily enough, her mind palace, the place where she stores her knowledge and memories, is her safe space, the space in which she can hide when she is around people that annoy her, or when her thoughts are too much.

Her eyes scan the room after awhile. It’s ugly, dirty, and run down. The motel is in the middle of nowhere.

It is the kind of place her father would never stay in, not even in his wildest dreams. The thought comforts her as she snuggles deeper into the smelly blankets.

He would hate it here which is why she loves it. She goes to sleep with this thought in mind.


	3. Venice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/07/20  
I've completely rewritten this chapter. It's almost double as long and basically everything is different from the original chapter. Why have I rewritten it? Because it was shit, duh. 
> 
> Inspiration for Theo: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCvZe6ZCbF9xgbbbdkiodPKQ
> 
> Title-> Venice by The Darling Buds

_The typically hot Louisiana heat is something Hope never had a problem with. In fact, she misses it. The climate is just one of the many things she prefers in New Orleans compared to Mystic Falls. _

_Now, standing in the Bayou, surrounded by all her family, Hope is happy. She has brought a canvas and paint and brushes and a lot more supplies she most definitely won’t need, to capture the beautiful lake and the woods. _

_“Hey, my little artist.”_

_“Hey, Mom,” Hope replies._

_Putting her arms across Hope, Hayley lets her head rest on her daughter’s shoulder. “Your Dad wants to talk to you,” she says._

_“He can come to me if he wants to talk,” Hope answers, focusing her attention on the painting._

_“Don’t blame the messenger.”_

_“Well, where is he?”_

_“At the grill, with Uncle Elijah,” Hayley tells her, head still on resting on Hope’s shoulder. _

_Hope puts the pallet and brush safely away and turns to her mom. “So, now that they’re back, will you and Uncle Elijah…?”_

_“Talk to your father,” Hayley dismisses her with a smile. _

_“Declan’s gonna be crushed,” Hope says, laughing as she makes her way to her father. _

_There are so many people there. All of the crescent pack, some of the vampires, very few witches, and all her family. She walks past Kol and Davina, exchanges small talk with some of the wolves, smiles at Vincent, and keeps walking. Why is the grill this far away?_

_She keeps on walking and walking, eventually arriving at her destination but it’s left empty. _

_“Really?” she mutters. He wants to talk and then he leaves? _

_Turing around, she notices the sudden silence. It takes a few seconds for her brain to fully realize that everyone is gone. She can’t quite believe her eyes. _

_“Hello?”_

_She walks back to where she came from. The buzzing talks from a second ago have all vanished. _

_“Mom?” she calls out. Then, turning to the dock, she sees Hayley and Klaus. _

_She runs to them. “What are you talking about?” She jumps on them with a happy smile, supporting herself on their arms. _

_Klaus smiles at his daughter, until realizing that his arm is burning – and so is Hayley’s. Without success, both try to put out the fire. They keep burning, erupting in screams and turning into nothing but ash in front of Hope who helplessly watched the whole time. _

_She was screaming for help but no one came._

_Now she is on her knees, sitting over her parents. Her fingers fail to keep the ashes together, the wind blowing them in the lake. _

It’s normal. She is used to it – probably too much by now. Her nights are often cut short because of nightmares. On the bright side, they are always changing, never quite the same, so she has something new to look forward to. Her subconscious is nothing but creative. 

Most of the time, it’s something about her parents: killing them, being killed by her father, distorted versions of her memories of them. It has gotten so bad that sometimes she isn’t sure about what happened in a dream and what happened in reality.

Sometimes she dreams about her remaining family, sometimes about Alaric. Penelope creeps up in them, too. Even the twins at times.

The worst ones are definitely about her parents. 

Even though the people and the dreams are always different, there is a glaring communality across every single one and she doesn’t need a shrink to tell her this. So what if she ends up alone in every dream? Be it physically or emotionally, everyone always leaves, willingly or not.

It is five am. She is in the bathroom, washing her face. Looking at her clothes, she wishes she would have brought more. Wearing the same clothes she was in during her last nightmare that led her to this place isn’t really what she wants, especially since they reek of her nightmare-sweat. 

She can’t change it. After all, she didn’t plan on going on a road trip.

To kill time, she once again wanders through her mind palace. She first picked up on the mnemonic device when she read all the Hannibal books. At first she believed that it was just a clever invention of the author but a quick research revealed to her that it’s in actual technique used to memories lots of information.

As a witch, especially as a Mikaelson witch, she needs to know hundreds of spells. So, with the help of magic, she created a place in her head that helps her to do this. Soon it turned into a place where she stores all sorts of knowledge, not only spells.

Sometimes she wonders how other witches memories all the spells. Some you just know by using them a lot and some just stick in your head but those aren’t that many. What about all the other spells that get lost and that you can’t use because you can’t remember the incantation?

The mind palace is a great tool for that. Now it’s not just a place for memories but also for comfort. A much needed safe haven from the hell that is this planet.

An hour later, Theo wakes up. They have breakfast and once done, they hit the road again. Hope has told him about her love for painting, so he is taking her to the place he works at.

Hope suspects that he is just another artist struggling to get by, but his refusal to tell her what exactly his job is keeps her guessing.

They stop at a big building. It looks like an old factory. For a second, she thinks that this place would be perfect to kidnap and torture someone. It’s remote and big. No one would hear anyone scream. However, she dismisses the thought immediately.

“Come on,” he says, stepping out of the car. She follows him.

Judging from the outside, the inside area will be an old, run down mix of a gallery and rooms to paint. Maybe she was too quick to judge.

While the façade might have her believe that this place hasn’t much to offer, once inside reality hits her. From the first moments inside, she is overwhelmed by the new and high-tech equipment.

“You see, I’m not exactly an artist,” he says, continuing to walk as Hope marvels at all the stuff: Big tables, machines she has no idea what they even do, more doors that pique her interest for what’s hiding behind them.

“Wow,” she gapes.

“I’m an art conservator,” he explains. “Clients give me damaged paintings and I try to fix them.” He chuckles. “The paintings, that is. I don’t fix the clients.” He looks away, looking thoughtful. “Although I wish I could fix some of these dickheads.”

He shows her some pictures of his work, pre and post conservation.

“This is amazing,” she says, beaming. “Are you working on something at the moment?”

“Follow me.” Currently, he is working on a heartbreakingly damaged painting that has been even further damaged by a previous conservator.

“So now, after cleaning it, I first have to undo the previous retouching. Only then can I start my retouching process,” Theo says.

“What did the previous conservator do wrong?” Hope asks. She has a million questions and she could watch him work all day.

“Well, the paining wasn’t cleaned so when they retouched, the color was off. They matched the color with the dirty color of the painting and so it’s just wrong.”

“Isn’t that am amateur mistake?”

“Sure, but don’t judge too harshly. A lot of this job is figuring things out on your own. You’re lucky if you have a good mentor.”

“How long do you work on a painting? Like, on average?”

“That depends on the painting. Damage, size, et cetera. Does the stretcher need fixing? How dirty is it? How much retouching is needed? There are a lot of factors. But generally speaking, restoring a painting takes a long time,” he says. Thinking for a second, he adds, “This work is not for you if you’re impatient. You need a lot of concentration and most importantly, you need to be careful. You don’t want to ruin a masterpiece.”

“I would never forgive myself if I did,” Hope replies.

“That’s not the mindset you can have in this job.”

“Who said I want this job?”

“Fair enough.”

She definitely wants this job. It sounds like a dream job, restoring paintings. She could do this and sell her own paintings.

“There are people who copy famous paintings, if that’s more you thing. I mean, I don’t know if you have the skill for that, but maybe you’d be interested in that. You can’t sell your copies, though.”

He goes on to work on the painting he showed her earlier, explaining everything he does to Hope as she watches him work. His voice and his work are so soothing and peaceful to her. There is no messiness to what he does, like there is when she is anywhere near paint.

His slow and deliberate movements just reinforce the confidence that his eyes already emit. She knows that she’s observing someone who knows what he does.

It’s almost hypnotizing, watching him work. Hours later, when he’s taking a break, he asks her when she wants to go home. Reluctantly, she agrees to go home, but only once he has finished his work for the day.

So, after working some more, mainly a whole lot of scraping – which took all his focus – he drives her back to the school.

“Can I visit you some day?” Hope asks.

“Sure. Just let me know so I can prepare a painting and teach you something,” he answers with a cheeky smile.

“You’d teach me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” she asks, skeptical. “Don’t you have better things to do than help strangers?”

“Isn’t the world bad enough already? Let me do something nice for others.”

“You’re not doing this to, like, get in bed with me, right?”

He laughs. Loud and happy laughter. “That’d be a lot of effort, don’t you think?”

“Then why are you helping me? And don’t give me this ‘the world is a bad place shit’.”

“I like you, Andrea.” She had already forgotten that she didn’t tell him her real name. “You remind me of someone,” he tells her, his voice fading away as he reminisces about whomever she is reminding him of.

“I like you too. You’re cool.”

Chuckling, “Thank you, I guess,” he says.

“I need your number.”

“Maybe it’s you who wants to get me in bed,” he replies, grinning.

“I need it to contact you, dickhead.”

“Hey, hey, what’s that language, young girl?”

“You can insult your clients but I can’t use the same word against you?”

“No.”

“Rude.”

“Become an adult and you can swear as much as you want.”

“I can already do what I want,” she retorts.

“You certainly can,” he agrees.

They soon arrive at the school, saying goodbye.

Sighing as she watches the car disappear, she enters the school and immediately feels eyes on her. She goes straight to Alaric’s office.

“Try another locator spell.”

“She cloaked herself, it won’t work,” Lizzie replies, frustrated because she and Josie have explained this too many times already.

“Try harder!” he shouts. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “The Mikaelsons are going to kill us all if something happened to her.”

“What’s up?” Hope asks, leaning against the doorframe.

All four heads in the room snap in her direction.

“Where the hell have you been?” Alaric shouts.

“Nice of you to turn up,” Josie adds icily.

Emma and Lizzie also say something but she can’t understand them because they all erupt in talking, probably throwing accusations and insults at her.

“Finished?” she asks when they calm down. “I was on a road trip.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? We were worried about you,” Emma says.

“Sure you were. You were just worried about what my family would do. There was no need to tell them, by the way,” Hope says, glaring at Alaric.

“I didn’t want to but I had to make sure that you weren’t with them,” Alaric responds.

She shrugs. Makes sense.

“We care about you. Can’t you see that?” Emma asks.

“I don’t,” Lizzie replies. “What?” she adds after seeing Emma’s glare.

“Yeah, you all love me and would instantly die for me. Why are you always asking such stupid questions? Shouldn’t a therapist be more competent?”

They erupt in loud talking again after her insult and she is bored.

“I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me,” she announces and leaves them alone. Nobody even says anything as she leaves.

“Hey,” Rafael says, sitting down opposite to her.

She acknowledges his presence with a glance and turns her attention back to the book in front of her. They haven’t really talked since having sex and she doesn’t plan to change this now. The biography of Cleopatra is far more interesting. Such an interesting woman who is sadly mostly remembered for the guys she dated. Historians and men can be so cruel. Of course, a woman in power must have been some sex god. There can’t be any other reason for why she was in power – of fucking course.

Hope is more than grateful that she grew up with strong female role models like her mom and Freya and Rebekah.

She has completely forgotten that Rafael is sitting there, waiting for her to talk.

For a moment he doesn’t say anything, just sitting and observing her quietly.

“How are you?” he asks eventually.

She gives him a look that says: ‘Seriously?’ “If you want to have more sex, just say it,” she mutters; her attention on the book.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he answers the question she hasn’t asked. “Your birthday is in a couple of days, right?” he inquires after a moment of silence in which Hope had hoped he would leave her alone. No such luck for her, it seems.

“How do you- oh, the twins. Right. Did you ask them or did they just randomly tell you?” she asks.

“Are you throwing a party?” Rafael replies instead of answering her question.

“Probably not,” she says, again trying to focus on the book.

“You should.”

“Why?”

“Everyone loves a good party.”

“Not everyone.”

“But you do. Being from New Orleans and all.”

Giving up on the book, Hope actually pays attention to the werewolf. “I do appreciate a good party,” she confirms, still wondering what the hell he wants from her.

“Great, I’m looking forward to the party.”

“I didn’t say I would-“

“I know,” he grins.

“What do you want?” she sighs.

“Can I not just talk to you for no reason?”

“Everyone wants something,” Hope answers dryly.

“True, but you can’t give me what I want.”

“Sure about that?” she tries to sound teasingly but it comes out more tired than anything else.

“Sex was great but I’d say we’re better friends than lovers.”

After what happened with Penelope, she isn’t too keen on another fuck buddy, so she asks, “So you are just talking to me because you want to?”

“Yup.”

“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your friends or lover or whoever?”

“I don’t have a lover but I take it as a compliment that you think I have one.” He smiles at her.

“You are annoying,” she complains.

“I just enjoy teasing you.”

She rolls her eyes and he keeps smiling.

The fact that she doesn’t know anything about him makes this conversation so much harder. If she knew more, she could understand his intentions better. There is nothing, really. New at school, werewolf, and friends with the twins – that is all she knows about him.

“Do really not have any friends? I heard some wild stories about you.” Rafael asks. He doesn’t want to upset her or anything, he’s just curious. School rumors can be nasty and what he has heard sounds, to him, exaggerated – massively exaggerated.

Instead of replying, she looks at him, paying him her full attention for the first time.

“Are you really a good painter? Josie mentioned it,” he continues, mistaking her silent consideration for anger. “I also heard you are a good fighter. Wanna spar someday?” One of the stories he’s heard about her is that she beat up a wolf pretty badly.

He seems genuine to her, how he talks and how he acts. Why would he want to be her friend, though?

He killed someone. That should fuck your psyche, at least a little bit, she thinks. It did for her.

And what the hell does he want from her?

“Do you even know who I am?” she asks.

“We’ve had sex,” he points out. “I’d like to think that I know who you are.”

“That’s not what I meant. I-“

“Oh, you mean your reputation as the loner, yet slutty tribrid?” he asks dryly. He hates rumors. “And some people seem to be afraid of you, although I don’t know why,” he adds as an afterthought.

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Mikaelson – what does this name mean to you?”

Looking confused, he replies, “Not much. I know they’re the original vampires and that somehow you are the daughter of one of them.”

“Makes sense,” she says, more to herself than to him.

“What about it?”

Lizzie is staring at him, or her, hard to tell from the distance, and Hope wonders if he is just trying to make Lizzie jealous.

“You sure I can’t give you what you want?” Hope asks.

“What do you mean?” he asks, confused.

“Lizzie.”

He chuckles. “Oh. What, you think she, like, _likes _me? I mean, I like her and all but not like this, you know?”

Is he lying? She always assumed he must be interested, otherwise there is no reason why he would hang out with Lizzie. Okay, that’s unfair. She was almost friends with Lizzie on numerous occasions and she secretly likes their banter. But back to Rafael – Why can’t she tell whether he is lying? She can always tell. Reading people is easy.

It drives her crazy but she doesn’t show him that. Instead she keeps a neutral, slightly amused face.

“Really?”

“She isn’t really my type. Or maybe she is.” After doing his best to hold a straight face, he finally breaks, his smile cracking through. “Okay, enough fucking around. I do like her,” he admits, lowering his voice. In the short time he has been at the school he has learned to level his voice to keep nosy vampires from listening in. Not that it would prevent them from hearing him; it’s just to not draw attention.

Hope knows what he is doing. But she doesn’t tell him that, thanks to a spell, no vampire can listen in on her conversations. At least not in the school.

“Go for her,” she tells him, sounding bored. “Even if you don’t like her, she is really good, if you know what I mean,” she says, adding a wink to make it the message clear.

“You and Lizzie?” He simultaneously sounds surprised and not. 

“Oh, she didn’t tell you? Hope replies in a mocking tone. “Why wouldn’t she, huh?”

“Why are you being a dick?”

“What do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” he assures her.

“So, what about Lizzie? Want my help getting in her pants?”

“Thanks, but no. I don’t need a wingman.”

“Don’t hurt her,” Hope says, book back in her hands.

“I didn’t realize you care,” he says, surprised.

“The world doesn’t need more assholes.”

“Like you?”

She smiles in response. “Like me.”

“I won’t hurt her,” he assures her.

“Good,” she replies. If only he could be sure about something like this. It’s impossible to not hurt someone in a relationship, she thinks.

Nothing interesting happens in the next few days, only a lot of school work. She finishes her detention and her work in the library, finally with the slightest bit of free time again. On the day of her birthday, Hope wakes up in no mood for a party; more like in the mood to drown in alcohol.

That is until after she got ready for the day, when she ate the little breakfast she eats everyday just so that she eats something, and when she spotted the school gates being opened and a Bentley driving in.

Hope knows this car, she even drove it herself once. There are two other cars coming in. 

Rebekah and Marcel get out of the car and signal the other drivers to come nearer. The park and get out, beginning to unload.

More and more students come to watch as wrapped up boxes pile up. The Original and her husband make their way to the school while the men, dressed in uniforms, still unload. 

Hope goes to the door to greet them and is immediately crushed in the arms of her aunt. “Happy Birthday!” she exclaims happily. Marcel does the same and Hope is laughing.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” she says.

“Are you kidding me? It’s the first time we can visit you on a birthday and it’s your sweet sixteen,” Rebekah replies. Students are watching them. “You can help unloading the presents,” Rebekah tells them. 

Some run away, most do what the Original told them, helping the men outside as another car comes.

“Are we the first?” Marcel asks.

“Yes?” Hope answers, not sure what he is talking about.

“I told you Kol would be late,” Rebekah says.

“He’s coming too?” Hope asks.

“Of course, silly. Everyone is coming.”

By everyone, she meant everyone. All the Mikaelsons and even Vincent and some of the crescent pack are on their way. Marcel told her that some of her vampire friends wanted come too, but he felt like it would be overkill.

Hope is pretty sure that this is already overkill, as she watches as more and more gifts are being unloaded by fearful students and men in uniforms. 

Freya arrives next, together with Keelin and Vincent. They don’t seem to have as many presents as Rebekah and Marcel.

“What the hell is going on here?” Alaric asks. He had been in his office, working, and suddenly the school is full of Mikaelsons and cars. Students are working and gifts are piling up.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Rebekah asks the headmaster, raising her eyebrows innocently but the warning is clear: Don’t ruin this day!

Freya quickly talks to him since she has the best relationship to Alaric out of the Mikaelsons.

“What the hell is in all these?” Hope asks because the amount of presents is getting ridiculous – even for her family’s standards.

“Marcel and I were shopping across Europe,” Rebekah tells her. “We got you pretty much everything for you. From clothes to jewelry to more surprises, we got everything covered. You will never need to shop for dresses again,” she laughs, her smile infectious. “I had to make up for missing so many of your birthdays.”

“And where am I supposed to take all this? I don’t have enough space,” Hope says, laughing.

“I’m sure your headmaster can give you another room,” Kol says as he walks in, big smile on his face, hand-in-hand with Davina.

“And you can give some of the things away if you don’t like them,” Rebekah says. “Pick what you like and ignore the rest. There is plenty to choose.”

“Whoa, what the hell is going on?” Lizzie demands to know. She and Josie just came in.

“Come here,” their dad says, wanting them as far as possible from the Mikaelsons. Lizzie remains on her spot, looking at all the gifts, then to Hope.

“Happy Birthday,” she says quietly, like she can’t quite believe what she is seeing.

“Thanks.”

Josie shakes Hope’s hand and congratulates her. She seems to be dumbfounded, too. “Do you always get so many presents?”

“No,” Hope answers. “Normally not.”

Josie huffs a laugh. “Well, enjoy it.”

Rebekah, observing the interaction, asks, “You’re coming to the party later on, right?”

“Uh,” Josie looks at her sister who, for once, doesn’t have a reply ready. “Yeah,” she says before her father could intervene.

They leave soon after.

“Why did you invite them?” Hope asks her aunt.

“You like them,” she states. “Don’t you?”

“I guess.”

After the wolves arrived, Hope directed her fellow students to carry the presents in the room Alaric has given her.

“Hey.” The headmaster pulls her to the side. She expects him to rant or says something about her family being there.

“I didn’t know they were coming,” she tries to defend but is interrupted by him pulling her into a hug.

“Happy Birthday. Enjoy your day, will you? And please don’t destroy too much school property.”

Perplexed, Hope doesn’t know what to say. “Uh, thank you.” Their relationship has been rocky lately so this change in attitude caught her off guard. 

The Mikaelsons gather in Hope’s room. Kol and Davina give her booze – a lot of booze – and a grimoire, half-filled with some of their favorite spells and half-empty for Hope to fill with her own spells. Kol also insisted to keep up the tradition of gifting her literary classics each year. It started with Shakespeare on her ninth birthday. This year it’s Kafka, after already having her read Homer, Virginia Woolf, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Mary Shelly, and Herman Melville.

She thanks them both with a hug.

Freya and Keelin have gifted her enough oil paint and acrylics to last her for the next two years or so, and her set of brushes has been expanded by their gift too. They also got her a piano. 

A freaking piano. “Where the hell do I even put that?” Hope asks. She can’t stop smiling. This is all so much.

“There is room in here,” Freya says, “if you also use it as a desk.”

“I guess I could do that.”

“Also,” Freya walks to Hope, stopping when she is standing right in front of her. “Here.” She hands her a photo album. Hope opens it and quickly scans through it. There are photos of everyone in there.

“I have searched everything in every home this family ever had,” Freya says. “Sadly, many photos have been destroyed some time ago but I did what I could.”

Hope is seeing photos she has never seen before, of her family and of herself. She feels her eyes wet with tears as she sees one of the rare pictures she has with her father.

“Thank you,” she mutters, hugging her aunt.

Marcel is swirling the keys of the Bentley around his finger.

“No way.”

He grins. “Everything for you on your special day,” he says, throwing the keys over.

“Oh, my god. You’re the best!” 

“Our other presents are in the other room,” Rebekah says. They go to the room.

“You are absolutely ridiculous,” Hope says, grinning.

“For you? Always.”

There are more clothes and more jewelry than Hope could ever wear. Well, that’s not true since immortality is awaiting her. Still, she could start wearing new clothes every day and always have something for the next years.

Luckily, Rebekah and her taste are quite similar. Hope will probably give some of the stuff away as it’s just that much.

But these dresses... Hope won’t give these away. Ever. 

Next to the ridiculous amount of clothes, there are pencils, notebooks, a guitar, makeup, new boxing gloves, a camera, a sword… “A sword?”

“Don’t you like it?” Rebekah pouts.

Shaking her head, “I love it,” Hope says, making her aunt smile and Kol laugh.

“What does she need a sword for?” he asks.

“She doesn’t _need_ anything of this but why not?”

Hope spends more time opening presents, with their family commenting on what Rebekah and Marcel chose.

“We live in the twenty-first century, don’t you think a record player is a bit outdated?” Kol snips.

“Do you have nothing else to do than to complain? We got her a lot more than you did.”

“The number isn’t what’s important. The thought behind the gift is,” Kol counters.

“What do you think what we did the last few months? We discussed every gift but we could never decide so we just bought everything,” the blonde vampire says innocently.

“Don’t worry, I’d love everything that you give me,” Hope says.

Rebekah beams at her.

“Bow and arrow… cool.”

There are more smaller items, like day-to-day articles. Hope will most likely not use many of the presents but now she has hats and beanies and berets and she definitely won’t complain. On second consideration, while she might not wear the hats, not really a hat person, she likes the beanies and the berets are really great. Davina definitely loves seeing her with this one blue beret, telling her how beautiful she looks.

The boxes with the shoes are next.

Once Hope opened most presents, Freya says, “We have one last present. From all of us.”

“What is it?” Hope asks. The ground she is sitting on is covered in wrapping paper.

“It’s not something we can give you,” Davina says.

“It’s a surprise, actually. For tomorrow,” Kol says sternly, silencing the others with his eyes. “Today you will have a nice party.” Thinking about it for a moment, “Maybe we should reschedule. We don’t want her hung-over,” he says.

“Tribrid,” Hope dismisses. “I don’t get hangovers.”

“Then I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

“You won’t.”

As they are in the room, unpacking present, the crescent pack is organizing the party.

Vincent gives Hope a bracelet made by Tremé witches and the pack gives her a moonlight ring.

Hope enjoys her birthday party. Sadly, thanks to all the presents, everyone now knows that it is her birthday and so she has to shake a lot of hands and even endure some hugs, all from people who don’t like her and who she doesn’t like either.

At least she gets to wear one of the dresses Rebekah and Marcel have given her, for which she gets lots of unspoken compliments. Sometimes eyes tell you more than words ever could.

Enjoying the party with a few drinks, she decides to dance. She should dance more. It’s way too much fun than to skip parties or only drink.

Her family couldn’t have come at a better time. She was feeling so down but their presence, let alone all the gifts, has lightened up her mood considerably.

And she can do something now that she hasn’t been able to do too much of in her life yet: Dancing with her family. Other than the weddings, this is the first time. Hope is switching between all, changing her partner every few minutes.

The gym is full of students. Almost everyone who is old enough is there and probably too many of those who aren’t yet old enough, too. Well, technically, no one is really old enough to drink, but who cares. It’s a school full of supernatural teenagers.

Even some of the teachers have some fun.

All in all, it’s a pretty fun Thursday – thanks to her family.

Hope makes out with a few people during the party, relishing in the contact, the warmth and the absence of the nothingness inside her. She ignores Kol’s snarky comments and Rebekah’s heart eyes.

Although she kisses many people, boys and girls, and has close body contact to many people while dancing, nobody catches her interest for more.

“What are your intentions for my niece?”

Hope’s kissing session is interrupted by Marcel. His eyebrows are raised and his eyes are focused on the guy in front of the tribrid.

“Hm?” he asks impatiently.

The guy, a werewolf, stammers helplessly, prompting Marcel to send him away with vampire eyes and threats. Klaus would be proud, he thinks. Hope rolls her eyes. “Was that necessary?”

“I always wanted to do this,” Marcel tells her, cheeky smile on his face.

“Niklaus did the same to me,” Freya says, starling Hope because she didn’t realize her aunt is behind her.

“We have to look out for the woman in this family, apparently. Your taste in men isn’t the best.”

“Clearly,” Freya retorts. “Just look at Rebekah.”

Hope laughs. “He’s like, the fifth person I’ve kissed tonight and only now did you decide to intervene?”

“I didn’t like how he forced his tongue down your throat.”

“Yeah, less would have been more,” Hope agrees. “Let’s dance!” She takes Marcel’s hand and drags him along. 

Not everything was great that evening.

There’s a fight that Hope doesn’t care enough about to break up. There are enough people to separate them, so why should Hope interfere? Especially when this girl kisses her like she’s a goddess. Only Penelope is better.

Kol breaks up the fight by knocking all the participants out before any teacher did something. Hope has to stop herself from breaking out in laughter because her thousand year old uncle has to break up a school fight.

Wisely, none of the students or teachers dares to say a word to Kol. Sometimes Hope is glad that they learn about her family. It’s quite the power that the Mikaelson names gives her and her family.

Lizzie and Josie are late. She didn’t think they would come anymore, but they are just fashionably late. Lizzie’s idea, if Hope had to guess. At least they look hot.

Penelope is also there with all her friends. Hope briefly wonders whether Penelope has found a new friend.

“Happy Birthday Hope.” She hears Raf’s voice behind her and turns around to look at him.

“Thank you.” She hates birthdays. Loathes them, actually. At least this one has been bearable. The day she was born her mother died, turned into something she never wanted to be. The day she was born marks the eventual end of her family.

No, she doesn’t like thinking about her birthday and judging by Rafael’s expression, he sees that on her face.

“You okay?”

“Of course.”

“Wanna dance?”

“Sure.”

So she dances with Rafael, giving Keelin and Freya the finger because they imitated her kissing the werewolf. Which she doesn’t even do. Maybe they did it before, too, and she just didn’t notice.

“How’s it going with Lizzie?” Hope asks.

“Could be better,” he answers. “She kinda keeps me close and distant at the same time. It’s really confusing.”

“Just give her love and a lot of attention. That is everything she wants.”

“Isn’t this what everyone wants?”

They dance some more until Raf leaves to dance with Lizzie.

She continues dancing, with her family, alone, all without a care in the world. She gets a drink and goes outside for some fresh air. It’s extremely warm inside.

Hearing Alaric talk, she waits and listens.

“All the Mikaelsons are here and they’re throwing a party. Without notifying me beforehand and without permission.”

She can’t hear a response so he must be talking over the phone.

“Yes, I know. I won’t end the party and I won’t punish her.” He couldn’t if he wanted to, he thinks.

“Caroline, I know. But at what point do we have to stop making excuses? When she kills someone? She already almost crippled Alyssa. At some point it simply isn’t enough to say that she lost her parents and is acting out. It’s been months and she gets worse, not better.”

She has heard enough and goes back inside, her mood a little worse but not too much. He didn’t say anything that she didn’t know or suspect already.

Back inside, she sees Josie looking a little lost.

“Why are you standing here? Go and dance,” Hope says, startling Josie who did not see her coming.

“You are talking to me, is it Christmas already?”

“We constantly talk.”

“Not because we want to.”

“Fair point.”

“So what has brought the mighty Hope Mikaelson down to talk to me?”

“I’m just checking on my party guests.”

“Uh-hu.” Josie shifts from left to right, feeling silly all of a sudden. She got Hope a gift but after the shitload of presents from her family, the bracelet she has made pales in comparison.

“What are you waiting for? Have fun,” Hope says.

“I, uh, got you something.”

Hope stares, caught by surprise. After what had happened between her and Lizzie, she never expected Josie to gift her something.

Josie holds her hand out, bracelet in hand. Hope takes it, putting it on her free arm, as the bracelet Vincent has given her already occupies one.

“Thank you,” Hope says, still surprised by the gift.

“It’s nothing.”

“What’s going on here?” Keelin throws her arms around Hope and almost makes her fall over. Her aunt has already had a lot to drink, if Hope’s nose is to be trusted.

“Uh, Josie Keelin, Keelin Josie.”

“Hi.”

“Are you her girlfriend?” Keelin asks bluntly.

Josie blushes and Hope laughs.

“There you are.” Freya jogs to them, taking her wife’s arm. “Sorry,” she mutters to Hope and Josie. She leads Keelin away, leaving the two girls alone.

“Are they together?” Josie asks.

“Married.”

“I wish I had a gay aunt. So much would have been easier.”

“I think everyone in my family has been gay at some point,” Hope says, absentminded.

“They seem cool.”

“I’ll let them know.”

“Why did you run away?” Josie asks. The tribrid doesn’t reply; she only smirks at Josie. “I saw you that day. You were crying.” She sees Hope’s smirk slip a little bit, but she doesn’t seem affected by her words.

“I just read Romeo and Juliet. So sad how they die, isn’t it?”

“Is it so hard for you to be honest for once?”

“Careful, Jo, you are supposed to hate me,” Hope says, eyeing the bracelet. She looks at Josie and walks away.

“Against my better judgment, I do not hate you,” Josie yells after her.

“Cool,” Hope yells back, disappearing behind people.

Hope is taking a break, drinking, when she comes to stand next to Lizzie.

“Hello, Dudley.”

“I got way more than 36 presents,” Hope replies.

“39, in the end,” Lizzie corrects.

“And a friendly snake.”

Lizzie snorts. “You’re even more spoiled than Dudley.”

“Jealous?” Hope asks, smiling.

“Of you?” Lizzie asks indignantly. “Never. Enjoy your rich family.”

“I could give some clothes and jewelry if you like. There is so much and not everything is my style, so…”

“Pass.”

“Your loss. Tell me if you change your mind.”

Rafael joins them which Hope takes as her cue to leave. “Have fun, you two,” she says and goes, but not after winking at both of them.

Times passed quickly as she does more of the same. Many students have left since it’s still a Thursday, tomorrow being regular school day. A few very drunken students and some who still dance are still there.

Penelope, her friends, Lizzie, Josie, and most of her classmates are still there and so are most of her family and the pack.

Freya and Keelin are already in bed, with the latter having a little too much to drink.

Hope’s standing alone in the middle of the room.

Everywhere are little groups of friends who are talking to each other, who have fun together.

She doesn’t have anyone. Well, she has her family but it’s not the same, is it?

On every other day she’d understand feeling like this. But not today, not with her family there. She shouldn’t feel like this. Still, it’s very lonely in the loud and still crowded room.

A few minutes ago she was having the time of her life and now everything sucks again.

Why does everything turn bad in her life?

There is always this fleeting moment. A moment of happiness. A moment where things seem okay – only a moment, never lasting. Always fleeting, leaving her. Leaving her empty and sad and angry.

Miserable.

Her eyes wander over the people who are left.

Penelope and Josie are talking and laughing, flirting.

Great, Penelope has a new play thing. Maybe Josie’s big heart can fix her. Maybe they are just a distraction for each other, with Josie trying to forget her mom not being there and having a problematic father, and Penelope trying to forget her family and their expectations.

Or maybe they make each other happy. Maybe there is nothing going on, just two drunk girls laughing.

It doesn’t matter.

Rafael and Lizzie are making out. Good for him. 

Let’s see who ends up with a broken heart. Shaking her head, she’s being cynical. It’s probably the alcohol.

Kol and Davina are in their own little world. Hope has been envious of their love in the past. They are literally the sun in each other’s lives. Their love is so all consuming that she sometimes wonders how they even think about anyone else.

Rebekah and Marcel are also distracted by each other. He is making her laugh. He’s good at that.

Hope leaves the room, the music fading away as she loses herself in thoughts. She doesn’t notice where she is going.

She gets the keys for her new car. Being in cars always reminds her of Uncle Elijah as him teaching her how to drive is one of the few memories she has of him. Now, sitting in this exact car in which he taught her, the memories of him are increased tenfold. 

He really had to leave her too, didn’t he? Why couldn’t he just stay? Or at least take the magic completely so that her father didn’t have to die. Why did they both have to die?

Still sober enough to drive thanks to her tribrid body, she starts the motor. She doesn’t know why she leaves. It’s a split second decision. 

It’s already quite late the next day when people realize she’s gone. Everyone assumed that she was just asleep, trying to get over the hangover. Many students missed class because of their hangovers. It’s only when Freya goes to her room that they notice.

Hope has mostly been driving around, trying to clear her thoughts. She considered visiting Theo but he told her to notify him beforehand so she doesn’t. At some point she stopped at a park. Now she’s sitting on a bench, looking at a river that awakens her motivation to paint.

Suddenly Freya stands in front of her, wearing a long, formal-looking dress.

“Oh, wow,” Hope gasps, impressed.

“Where are you?”

“Uhm, no idea. Why are you dressed up like this?”

“Your other present,” Freya says. “Already forgotten?”

“Oh. Fuck.” The secret one. What the hell requires them to be dressed up like this? “I’m on my way.”

“Why are you here in the first place?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Hope tells her truthfully. “It just happened.”

“Just get back here,” Freya says. “Quickly,” she adds after a pause. 

When she gets back, Rebekah is ready with a selection of different dresses for her. Before deciding, Hope first takes a shower. Once everything’s done, she meets her family. They are all in dresses or suits, just waiting for her.

“Sorry,” she says cheaply.

“No worries,” Kol replies. “They’re waiting for us.”

“About that – what are we doing?”

“You’ll see.”

It turns out that they got her a private ballet performance of Swan Lake. It’s just them in attendance.

It’s a day that will be burnt into her memory. Operas, theatre, ballet, the Mikaelsons have always enjoyed watching these kind of performances together. It’s been a long tradition that they intend to keep with Hope.

From all the gifts, this one might just be her favorite. Items are cool and all but nothing beats the time she actually spends with them. After so long of not being able to be in the same room with some of them, she treasures every moment they have together. Always and Forever is a lot more fragile than it sounds, so she has to savor it as long as she possibly can. Every moment counts.

They all leave that evening, going back to their lives.

Hope desperately wishes they wouldn’t leave, that someone would stay. She doesn’t want to be alone again. But she doesn’t tell them that. She can’t interrupt their lives like that, just because she can’t deal with her own shit. They deserve to be happy and not worry about her.

It hurts and leaves her empty, seeing them go. She’s standing in her room, surrounded by all their gifts.

Sighing, she at least tries to clean up, but she has honestly no idea where to put everything. She takes the photo album and sits down on her bed. Slowly, she looks at every photo inside. It takes her quite a while as there are a lot.

There are pictures she has forgotten that they even exist. Of her and her mom, of her and Marcel, of her and Freya and Keelin. Sadly, there are hardly any photos of her and Rebekah or Kol or Elijah. Finding a photo of all the Mikaelson siblings together is impossible. On one Freya is missing, on another it is Finn who isn’t there. 

Dejected, she puts the album away. Reminiscing about her family just leaves her depressed, so she decides to test the new oil paint Freya and Keelin have gifted her. She thinks about Theo while painting. Maybe, one day, he will restore one of her paintings. Highly unlikely but it’s possible.

Weeks pass without much happening. She mostly dreamed about the still living members of her family. Her life is back to the usual rhythm, i.e. mostly school work and painting and the occasional destroy-the-punching-bag session. Someone should have told her about all the work she has to do as a tribrid. She would have never attended the school if they did. It’s exhausting, but at least it keeps her mind occupied.

She hasn’t had sex in a while. She just isn’t that interested in it and it has nothing to do with Penelope, although it will certainly hard to replace her magical hands. Instead of sex, she has picked up on smoking weed. She doesn’t do it often, only sometimes while painting. It’s mostly for the lone moments of free time in which her thoughts threaten to overwhelm her.

Her schedule changes daily. One day it’s werewolf class, the next she’s with the witches, then with the vampires. It’s always changing so that she attends most of the classes. Of course, she has catch up with what’s she missing which means so much work for her free time. 

Currently, it is Monday. Today she is together with the wolves.

The werewolves have a PE lesson every day, in which they’re supposed to learn to control their aggressions and in which they can blow off some steam. Most of the times, like today, it is just fight training. Hope has always found it a bit hypocritical of the school that the werewolves learn how to fight while the witches are not being taught any offensive magic. At least they have the dueling class now, but they aren’t learning many instrumental spells for fights there either.

Her sparring partner, Jason, the Jason she had sex with on her first day back, is constantly taunting her.

His confidence has grown tenfold since their last encounter. Becoming the alpha’s best friend and having a girlfriend have done a lot of good for his mental health. And, as Hope realizes now, for his ego too.

Fighting always depends on her mood. Sometimes she just doesn’t want to fight; feeling way too close to her family and sometimes it is the only thing that keeps her sane. But in these cases it is always the punching bag that she trashes, not a student. She doesn’t trust herself enough to really fight with a student.

And right now, she is not in the mood to fight so she just evades and blocks his punches which just irritates him. He is in full on werewolf mode, ready for a fight.

“Scared, Mikaelson?”

“Thought you are so tough.”

“Fight back.”

He hits her a few times.

“I bet your Dad wouldn’t be so scared.”

The last comment makes her look at him, anger rising.

“Or would your uncle-“

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

She doesn’t.

So he continues.

“Your mom was an alpha, wasn’t she? She would never let someone beat her up.”

She can barely contain her anger by now.

“You can insult me all you want but I will rip your arm off if you say one more thing about my family,” she says angrily, eyes glowing golden.

“Ohhh upset, Hope? What do you think your dad is when he sees what a disappointment you are?”

He knows he’s overdone it when she turns her hand. Pain explodes in his head and the next thing he knows, is Hope on top of him, punching his face in.

He wanted a fight. He got a beat down.

She stands up, places one foot on his throat and grabs his right arm. She starts pulling and he screams.

The wolves who laughed a second ago because Jason was getting beat up now rush to her. Jed is the fastest.

Without quite realizing what she is doing, she feels her hand around the alpha’s heart. She stands with one foot on Jason’s throat, one arm tearing his arm off, the other around Jed’s heart.

The teacher is yelling and the other werewolves are all standing still, everyone’s attention on her.

She stops, realizing what she is doing, removing her grip on Jed’s heart and letting Jason’s arm go. Staring at her bloody hand, she starts shaking. She was a second away from killing them both.

The teacher yells at her but she doesn’t listen, can’t really hear him, absorbed in her thoughts.

She once again lost control because her family was mentioned. Her family has so much power over her.

It’s not like she didn’t tell him what would happen if he continued but he pushed her nonetheless. It is not her fault that he is stupid. Still, she should have more control of herself.

He probably thought he could take her on and avenge the time she beat him up.

Rafael is saying something to her but she ignores him.

Unsurprisingly, she finds herself in Alaric’s office.

The headmaster is more furious than she has ever seen him before. Almost threatening if she didn’t see him as a parody of a father figure.

“Almost crippling Alyssa, running away, throwing parties without permission, now almost killing two of your classmates, generally being a giant pain in the ass! Is there anything more to add?”

“Playing with feelings and having hate sex?” Hope offers. “Being an asshole, destroying punching bags. But hey, I’m at the top of my classes,” she adds. Her lack of seriousness seems to aggravate his mood even further.

“I can’t believe it,” Alaric says. He has been pacing around in his office for minutes, repeating the words like they are a mantra. “I cannot – no- how could you become this person? How could this sweet, innocent seven year old girl turn out like that? How could you become such a-“

“Disappointment? Massive failure? Slut?”

“If your –“

“Alaric,” Hope warns him.

“What? Are you threatening me? Or do you want to seduce me? What twisted idea can your Mikaelson mind come up with?” Alaric has rarely been so furious with a student before and Hope’s bitchiness pisses him off.

“That’s what this is about?” Hope laughs. “You are playing disappointed daddy because I am like my family? You should have known better than to believe that you could change anything.”

“You’re right. I should have known better. I should have known that there isn’t a single good Mikaelson on this goddamn earth. I thought that you would be better. I thought that with the right guidance and with a little help, you could be a good Mikaelson.” He closes his eyes in effort calm himself down. “I foolishly thought that you could prove me wrong, that you … I have never been so wrong in my life.”

Hope has to sit there with chains around her hands that are suppressing her magic. She has had to listen to his rant for ten minutes and she has enough.

“What now?” She stands up and gets close to him. “Do you want to punish me?” she asks in a mocking voice. “Wanna be my daddy? I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”

“Get Out. Now.”

She smirks. “Gladly.” She flicks her wrist and the chains fall off. “The chains don’t work by the way.” At the door, she looks at him. “You know what? No, I’m not going.”

“Hope,” he says like he can barley control himself.

“What did you think would happen when you met me for the first time? Or when I first attended the school?” she asks. “You neglected your own kids to look after me. Lizzie seeks everyone’s attention. Guess why? Josie is always taking care of Lizzie so that you don’t have to, so that you have time to run this school and take care of people like me.”

She lets her thoughts run wild, aware that this is maybe her last day at the school. It wouldn’t surprise her if he expelled her right now. “You pull both of them out of classes to look after me. My father at least had a reason for staying away from me. What’s yours?”

He stares at the ground, guilt, anger and also sadness radiating from him. He knows she isn’t completely wrong. “Low blow, even from you,” he says.

“I could go on.”

“You’re right. I’m not the best dad. Far from it, in fact. I never claimed I was.” His fingers run over his face, calming him. “I hope that one day you will get help. Hopefully someone can help you but it sure as hell isn’t me. I tried for so long at the expense of my own daughters. I’m done.”

“Took long enough,” she says casually. She hates herself in that moment. She did it again. Once again she hurt someone, someone she likes and someone who cares about her. Cared, not cares. He’s done. Because that is what Hope Mikaelson does.

“Is that what you wanted?” he asks after a moment of silence. She looks at him, not expecting the question. She looks away.

“Didn’t think so,” he says and shakes his head. “Congratulation, you truly are a Mikaelson.” He says the name with so much hatred. “I hope that makes you happy, because what was everything for if not for happiness? I applaud you, Hope. You have the same talent to hurt people that your family has.” His voice sounds sad and tired.

“Thanks,” she replies, because what else is she supposed to say?

“You can go now, Hope.”

“Never call me that again. I think you can see the ridiculousness of this name.”

“Yeah, the name’s a joke,” he kind of laughs. “What should I call you, then?”

“I don’t care. Anything else is better.”

“You could go by your second name,” he suggests.

“Andrea Mikaelson.” She scoffs. “How does that sound?”

“Wrong.”

A smile crosses her face. “A least it’s not so ironic anymore.”

“Sure. You can go now, Andrea.”

“No expulsion or suspension or even punishment?”

“No-” he just sounds defeated- “Just go and don’t force me to see you again.”

“I’ll try,” she says.

He nods.

The next day in Potions class, Ms. Featherwood is speaking about how animals are often used for potions. She goes on to talk about venom and how venomous animals have been used for centuries for all sorts of potions.

Today she wants to teach the students about how to extract the venom safely. For that, she brought one of the snakes the school harbors.

Hope’s eyes fixate on the snake, her heart pounding heavily. The moment when she threw up a snake flashes through her mind. Then, becoming more distressed with every memory, she remembers how dozens of snakes came from every plant in the Mikaelson compound. She can almost feel the Hollow being back inside her, the voices, and the coldness. Her dad-

She can’t breathe.

The teacher and her classmates are unaware of her torment, until she stands up and runs to the door first, but then, realizing she won’t make it to the closest restroom, to the garbage can. Vomiting inside it, to the disgusted and sympathetic noises from her classmates, she almost cries, but holds herself together enough to ignore her teacher’s question and to get out. 

“Can someone check on her?” Hope hears the teacher say before she’s outside, running to her room. She opens the door to her bathroom, throws up again and cowers in the corner afterwards. Head in her hands, she tries to breathe evenly.

Why did that stupid snake have such a strong effect on her? She doesn’t know and it deeply unsettles her. Normally she is so good at keeping it together, not many things trigger her like this.

Once she somewhat calmed down, she washes her face and after that, she leaves her room, making her way to the lake.

Josie as well as Penelope find her on the way. The siphon has got Hope’s backpack that Hope left behind. 

“Uh, thank you,” Hope says after Josie handed it to her. She’s not really embarrassed. It’s just that both girls have never seen her like this, so compromised and freaked out.

“Are you- I mean, you’re obviously not, but… are you okay?” Josie asks.

Closing her hand to a fist, because Penelope keeps looking at her shaking hand, Hope answers with a barely audible “No.”

“What happened? How can we help?” Penelope asks.

Hope eyes her, surprised that the witch is there, still caring about her. “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do.” The snake flashes through her mind again- “Oh god.” -Her mom, her dad, fire, voices, the coldness. She holds her stomach, dropping the backpack.

“Hey.” Josie tries to touch her but Hope stops her.

“Get away from me.”

“Breathe, okay?” Penelope tells her.

“Leave!” Hope steadies herself on a tree. She’s barely holding it together. The more they talk, the worse she feels.

Her mind is betraying her, reminding her of so many things she normally holds contained somewhere very deep in her head. She’s having problems breathing. It’s like after her father’s funeral.

To avoid the two girls in front of her, Hope turns into a werewolf and runs as far away from them as she can.

“I guess we’ll give her this later,” Penelope says, picking up the backpack.

A few days later, after avoiding Penelope and Josie, she’s in the woods, completely alone, only accompanied by music coming out of her headphones. It’s a beautiful day, sun is shining through leafs and it’s pleasantly warm.

Stopping close to the lake, she finds herself a spot where she is still under the trees while also being able to see the water.

What she does next is not something she usually does. She does nothing, just sitting and listening to music. No school work, no people, no worries, just her thoughts, some animals and music.

It’s so quiet and yet so loud, louder than ever before. Only in the quietness do her thoughts come crawling back, quietly nagging at her.

She was too busy to acknowledge this feeling that has been brewing inside her for a long time now. Death, possession, voices, more death, school, people, stress, she has been deaf and blind to so many things in the last year.

She has been depressed, has felt void of emotions, but only now does she realize one thing.

And it’s not surprising. It’s been a long time coming. There’s no shock for her, no notable reaction at all.

Sitting in the forest, reminded of her mom’s funeral, Hope realizes she doesn’t want to live. It’s not like before when the Hollow was inside her, when she just didn’t want to live in this state anymore.

It’s not even that she wants kill herself. She’s not suicidal, per se.

What it is, first and foremost, is a lack of will, a realization that she just not longer wants to exist.

She just wants to stop.

Just stop.

She looks at the sky, staring mindlessly ahead, almost as she was already dead. 

She stays there for the rest of the day, doing nothing, both loving and hating it, simultaneously feeling and not.

If only it could all end, if only she could stop.


	4. Under The Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, last chapter?

With a new name comes a new look. Well, it’s actually been three months since she changed her name. Summer break is over; a new school year has started.

Hope feels the eyes on her freshly dyed, now blonde hair. She likes the color; it looks nice but weird, almost wrong. But what even is right anymore? And it’s not like it matters. Her hair color is so incredibly irrelevant she hardly finds the time to care about it.

The talent show is in two weeks and the witches are already practicing their performance, no doubt because of Lizzie’s insistence.

Hope, Rafael, and a few of his friends lazily watch the witches as the practice.

Josie sings while the other witches dance. How original, singing and dancing, nobody ever did this before.

They are struggling. The choreography isn’t perfect yet and there are a lot of missteps and Josie has problems with the song. It’s not her preferred style of music but Lizzie insists that this is the perfect song.

Lizzie snaps after hearing Hope snort at the siphoner’s misstep.

“Oh I’m sorry, is something funny?”

“Nothing. Keep going,” Hope replies.

“At least I’m on the stage doing something. It’s not my fault that you don’t have any talents that you could show at the talent show.”

“Making you scream my name could be considered a talent,” Hope says with a wink.

“Proud that you are a slut?” Lizzie hisses with anger in her voice.

“Feel free to give advice,” Josie joins the conversation, frustrated that she keeps failing to sing the song.

“She’d need to be good at it to give advice,” Lizzie says.

“You are so cute when you are angry,” Hope replies, looking at Lizzie and then at Josie.

“Just as I thought, only talk, nothing more.” Lizzie smiles cockily.

Hope’s eyes narrow a little. “Give me that guitar,” she says, accepting the challenge.

She walks on stage and sits on the stool, her feet not reaching the floor because she is too short. The witches gather in front of the stage, watching Hope with raised eyebrows. Breathing in, she starts to sing the first song that comes to her mind. Not the stupid song Lizzie wants Josie to sing.

There is no hesitation as she starts singing The House of the Rising Sun. It’s a song she has heard countless times when she was younger. Her eyes are closed and she gives it everything she has, wanting to prove Lizzie wrong. She only opens her eyes once she is finished singing and playing the last few notes.

A smirk overtakes her face as she sees Lizzie’s pissed off expression. Rafael and his friends, his non wolf friends, to be more specific, clap for her. Ever since almost killing their alpha, the wolves and Hope haven’t been on good terms.

Penelope wears a blank expression, one that she probably uses all the time with her family.

“I had no idea that you can sing,” Josie says. Her eyes are full of wonder.

“You know nothing about me.”

“You have to perform at the talent show,” Josie urges.

“Certainly not for the witches,” Hope replies.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a part of this faction. Not really.”

“You are part of every faction, Hope.”

“Andrea,” she corrects her.

“Oh yeah, I already forgot that you changed your name,” Lizzie says. “Why, Mikaelson?”

“Don’t know why anyone would want to change their name, Elizabeth.”

The next three weeks are marked by an absence of interesting things.

The werewolves hate her since she almost killed their alpha. They don’t train with her anymore and are always rude when they see her. She understands.

School is pretty boring. It’s a lot of work but it’s easy.

She starts to smoke more often. Most of the time, she uses herbs that are used for spells and potions. They give her a much more enjoyable high than mundane weed could. And right now, watching the talent show, Hope is high. It’s probably the only reason she is enjoying the show.

All the practicing of the witches paid off in the end. They deliver a great performance and Josie has a great voice, Hope has to admit.

The werewolves do an overdramatic fight-dance mix. It’s kind of funny and kind of good.

M.G does a comedy skit for the vampires and he is actually hilarious.

The way Josie looks at Hope has changed since that day, when she ran out of class because of the snake. Hope avoided her back then, and then summer break came up. Still, months later, Hope feels how Josie’s eyes are softer and not filled with a mixture of attraction and hatred, now more concern and sympathy.

Hope doesn’t care though. 

“Hey, Hope,” Josie says, sitting down opposite to her.

“Andrea,” Hope corrects. “Not that hard to remember.”

“Sorry. I’m just not used to it. Anyway, hey, Andrea.”

“What is it?”

“I was wondering if you want to hang out sometime,” Josie says, sounding hopeful.

“No,” Hope replies, sounding disinterested.

“No?”

“Well, depends on what you have in mind.” She sighs.

“We can do whatever you want.”

“You haven’t planned this at all.”

“Nope. I just thought you may want a friend.”

“Mhm. Why?”

“Life is easier with friends.”

Hope rolls her eyes.

“Hey, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Just think about it, okay?” Josie asks and walks away.

“Josie?”

“Yeah?”

“This isn’t your father’s idea, is it?”

“Nope.”

Hope doesn’t give her an answer. But she appreciates the offer. It’s nice to know that there is someone that cares about her except her family. At least a little bit.

It’s this weird contradictory feeling. She wants people to care about her. Like, who doesn’t? But she wishes no one does. It’s better that way. It’s better if people don’t care about her.

Better for everyone.

Mikaelsons hurt people, they kill people. Being close to a Mikaelson is dangerous and she is a Mikaelson in every way. She has killed someone, she hurts people, and she is messed up, has anger issues, can’t control her emotions, and has trust issues.

No one should have to keep up with that.

Every time she hurts someone, every time she pushes someone away, she hates herself a little more. She hurt Lizzie, used her. She hurt Penelope, broke her heart. She hurt Alaric so many times when all he wanted was to help her. She hurts people like Josie when they talk to her. She ignores them, is rude and sarcastic when they are friendly and nice.

All she wants is to repent. Something her family is bad at.

So many people have been killed or hurt for her. She shouldn’t continue this. It has to stop. There is no way that she can repent a thousand years of sins by her family.

Her sins.

She inherited them all. Every murder, every broken family, every slaughtered village, every enemy, every little sin of her family is her sin too.

But she can try. She can try to repent, to at least make an effort. No one will come back to life because of this; she can’t heal the wounds her family has left, but she has to do something. 

It is nice knowing that there is at least one person that hasn’t given up on her, hasn’t given up hope for her.

It makes her feel less alone.

That is what she is – alone. Alone in this school, alone in this world. She doesn’t belong in this world. She shouldn’t exist, not in this century, not at all. If anything, she should have been a Viking girl about a thousand years ago. She shouldn’t exist in this century, it’s wrong. Her existence is wrong.

She is thankful that there is at least one person that cares about her, even more than she cares about herself.

The next day she sits with Josie and M.G., and Rafael. Lizzie isn’t there.

She doesn’t say anything when she sits down next to them.

“Hey Ho-“

“What’s up, Andrea?” M.G cuts Josie off.

“I just felt like sitting here with you,” Hope replies, not in the mood to talk, but also not in the mood to sit alone again.

“Cool. We were just talking about…”

They become friends after that day. Kind of. Lizzie also accepts Hope in their group after some time and a lot of protests. Hope cares about them, the only people she cares about except her family, of course.

Lizzie, Josie, Rafael and M.G are always hanging out together. Hope sometimes joins them. Often she is alone and keeps away.

Lizzie and Rafael are officially dating now, crushing M.G.’s heart. At least they look happy together. Hope is happy for them, that they have each other.

“I miss your old hair color,” Lizzie comments one day. “Blonde is cool and all bit it makes you look like a –“

“Like a slut,” Hope finishes.

“Yeah, kind of. Sorry for calling you slut, by the way.”

“Whatever. I hadn’t had sex in a while, to be honest.”

“Really? I thought you and Brody were a thing.”

“What? Who told you that?”

“Hey, I’m not judging.”

“That’s new,” Hope answers dryly. “But there’s nothing going on. Never has, never will.”

“Hm,” Lizzie hums. “Raf and I didn’t do it yet.”

“Really?” Hope asks, her face betraying her surprise.

“Mhm. I didn’t want to do it too soon, like the first time,” Lizzie says with a sad voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Hope insists. She feels bad for what she did and she is grateful that she does. She cares. She didn’t when it happened. She didn’t care about Lizzie and now she does. In her mind, that’s a success.

“No, it’s not but you can’t change it,” Lizzie says.

Hope stays silent after this. Lizzie is right, she can’t undo what happened. She can only decide how to handle the situation now and what to do in the future.

She never smokes around her new group of friends. They probably wouldn’t like her smoking or like being around her when she is high.

Being high is dangerously enjoyable for her. It numbs her feelings and lets her forget things in a good way. Things aren’t that important anymore when she is high.

Painting, homework, school, reading, that is how she mostly spends her days. Sometimes hanging out with Josie, Lizzie, M.G when she has time or when she is in the mood for people. She still works out, but no fight training anymore. Staying fit and a beautiful body are still semi relevant to her. After all, she has to keep up an appearance.

Sometimes she sings, mostly when Josie urges her to.

She contemplates telling her things. They are kind of friends now but she always tries to keep the focus away from her, never telling them what is going on inside her head.

“I used to think that I don’t want anyone to care about me, that I don’t deserve it. I,” she sighs. She doesn’t know why she is telling her this. It’s something about Josie that loosens her tongue, makes her want to spill all her thoughts. Well, not all, but some.

“A bit late, isn’t it? After years of pushing everyone away, of making sure that no one wants to do anything with me.”

“Hope,” Josie says softly.

“Don’t give me that look,” Hope says in response to Josie’s sad eyes. “And it’s Andrea.”

“What can I do, Andrea? I can’t offer you more than emotional support or a hug.”

“Nothing, I don’t know why I even told you.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Close yourself off, not telling me.”

“Josie, you are worse than your father.”

“I think this is a compliment.”

“It is.”

“Well, thank you. Let’s sing together.”

And they sing together. It’s nice singing with Josie.

It’s a distraction.

But a fun one.

Josie keeps giving her these sympathetic looks, almost begging Hope to confine in her. She doesn’t know why Josie would want this. She doesn’t give in, not really, not wanting to drag anyone, let alone Josie, in her problems, in her fucked up world and not caring enough to be honest with her

The universe keeps beating down on her, making her life a living hell. Nothing remarkable has happened; she can just feel herself falling deeper and deeper. Everyday just becomes worse and worse, and her will to live is getting weaker and weaker.

As a response to the world, she is more sarcastic than ever and closes herself off again. Her consumption of drugs increases, too. Sometimes she is high in class but nobody seems to notice, as she is still smarter than everybody else, even when she is high. It’s not like drugs are becoming more and more of a lifeline, but they kind of are. Life is so much more bearable when high.

Little road trips are becoming something that Hope does frequently. It’s good for her to get out of the school bubble and meet people in the real world. And they’re easy to do with her new car. She still can’t quite believe that she has a Bentley.

She feels more alive with these people – mundane people.

Hope notices Alaric observing her while she is around his daughters. His expression betrays a mixture of emotions.

He is worried about his daughters, worried that Hope will hurt them. However, he is also proud that Hope found friends in his daughters.

He is happy that they are finally friends after all these years.

The more Hope closes herself off, the more Josie randomly appears around her, always trying to talk to her.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” Hope snaps one day. “I’m sorry,” she says after seeing Josie’s hurt expression.

She falls a little for the siphoner. For the caring expression, for the gentle touches and the bright smile.

She wants her and she doesn’t.

Josie deserves better and she isn’t interested in any kind of relationship. She wants her sexually, nothing more, nothing less. Maybe. But she won’t do it. She did the same to Lizzie. Josie would be hurt and for what? For a few minutes of pleasure? No, she won’t do that – hopefully.

At least that is what she tells herself.

It’s infuriating, the contradictions, the internal fight. On the one hand she wants to do better, to be better, but on the other hand it is so hard to break out of your habits.

She tries to keep Josie away from her, trying to protect her from being hurt and not realizing that she is already hurting her by pushing her away.

Weeks pass and they are in this weird state where they sometimes hang out but barley talk. She can feel that Josie wants to talk to her, that she wants to be closer but Hope doesn’t let her.

Instead she loses herself in drugs. Painting while being high is her new favorite activity in the world, especially in the middle of the night.

Her mind palace gets bigger as she stores more information there.

She feels alone.

Again. No, still. She never stopped being alone.

She deserves it.

She deserves to suffer for everything her family has done, for everything she has done.

It’s not enough, the suffering; she deserves more considering what her family did to people. The suffering they put people through surpassing anything that Hope is feeling.

“Penny for your thought?” Josie voice pulls her out of her thoughts.

“I’m just realizing what a terrible person I am. Again,” she answers, too distracted and way too tired to lie or to give a sarcastic response.

“Hope,” Josie says, grabbing Hope’s hand which stops the tribrid from correcting her, “Hope, when are you gonna realize that you are a good person?”

Hope scoffs and pulls her hand away. “You morals are all over the place if you believe I’m a good person,” Hope replies, doing air quotes at the good person part.

“Alright, alright, yes you have done some bad things because you’re hurt. You lashed out, that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“I’ve done more than ‘some bad things’, Josie.”

“What else?” Josie continues, ignoring Hope’s comment. “You slept with a lot of people. I’m sure most of them aren’t upset about that,” Josie says, smiling.

“Expect your sister and Penelope and Roman.”

“Lizzie yes, but not Penelope.”

“She told you that?”

“Yeah, she said that sex with you is, and I quote, ‘the closest you’ll ever get to feeling like a goddess.’” Josie blushes, as she realizes what she said but she relaxes when she sees Hope smirking.

“Are you and Penelope-“

“No, we are just friends,” Josie says a little too quickly and blushes again. “So let’s continue with Hope Mikaelson’s naught list.”

Hope rolls her eyes but she smiles. Josie trying to defend her is simultaneously cute and pathetic.

“You are often mean to people but honestly, who isn’t mean sometimes?”

“You?”

“That’s not true. I was often mean to you, remember?”

“Whatever. The difference is I’m always an asshole to everyone.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s still not enough to call yourself a terrible person, Hope.”

“Andrea.”

“Now the last thing, the most important point,” Josie says, grabbing Hope’s hand again and looking deep into her eyes. “You did not kill your parents and their death is not your fault.”

“How would you know?” Hope asks, jaw clenched. “You weren’t there.”

“My Dad told me everything. Your mom was killed by some crazy vampire purists and you dad died protecting you.”

“Thank you for the reminder but I was there,” Hope says, her voice poisonous.

“What I’m trying to say is that their death’s isn’t your fault, okay?”

“They are my fault and there is nothing you can say to convince me otherwise.”

“Why? I don’t understand why you think that.” Josie wants to understand but it doesn’t make sense to her.

“Everything is my fault!” she screams, gathering the attention of the students around them. “I’m the reason they’re dead! Please just stop talking about them. Just fucking stop.” Tears are rolling over her face. She doesn’t know why she is crying but she can’t stop. Everything comes back to the surface again, every memory of their deaths, all the repressed emotions.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Josie whispers, hugging the tribrid.

“Don’t touch me.” Hope pushes her away. “Why couldn’t you just shut up?” She runs away.

After entering her room, the first thing she does is vomit. The thought of her dead mother haunting her.

“I’m sorry, mom,” she cries.

She sees her face in the mirror.

Her teary eyes, the tears on her face. The expression of a broken girl.

She sees her father in her own eyes.

In that moment she can’t hate him anymore.

She just misses him. She misses him so fucking much. More than she would ever admit, more than she ever thought. She misses them so much. She wishes she could go back to not caring again. She cares so much and it’s killing her.

It hurts more than ever, more than the first time.

She spent so much time not caring, hating him, hating everyone and everything, not feeling, feeling too much.

All because she wanted to see him again. She can never see them again, gone forever because she wanted to see him, spend time with him.

There is no anger this time, just sadness and hatred directed herself.

Always and forever

Hope

Ruined because of her.

She will never forgive herself for this.

She can’t.

She won’t.

She doesn’t deserve forgiveness.

She skips classes the next two days. She can’t bring herself to get out of her room.

“Hope, are you okay?” She hears Josie’s voice outside her door. It’s the third time the siphoner knocked that day.

“I’m fine, thanks,” she says after opening the door.

Josie sees shiny blue eyes and feels so bad. “Hope, I’m so sorry. I-“

“Why? You didn’t do anything.”

“I- what? I’m the reason you were crying and why you haven’t been in class.”

“You shouldn’t feel bad. My fucked up psyche is the problem, not you,” Hope replies, voice tired. “You will never stop feeling bad if you don’t accept that I am fucked up. Take my advice and stay away from me.”

She is about to close the door when she hears Josie’s quiet voice. “I won’t stay away.” She continues with a louder voice when Hope looks at her. “I’m sorry, but I care about you and I won’t stay away.”

Hope doesn’t know what to say, only staring at the siphoner. After a moment, she pulls her in and kisses her. Josie kisses her back. Hope pushes her against the wall, kissing her harder, passionately.

She shouldn’t. But she wants it.

No.

“Fuck,” she says, breaking apart.

Josie looks so hot. Catching her breath, hungry expression on her face.

No.

“Leave.”

“What?”

“Fucking go away.”

They stare at each other until Josie gives in and leaves with a pained expression.

The tension between them is almost unbearable. She wants to kiss Josie, wants her.

Josie acts normal, as if nothing changed and in a way, nothing did. Nothing really happened. They are still kind of friends; still hang out from time to time. The only difference for Hope is that she wants Josie more than before.

Pathetic. She falls for the girl that made her cry and hate herself. No, she hated herself before that and Josie had good intentions.

Josie is equally pathetic. She falls for the most fucked up girl in the school, the girl who used her sister and hurt her father so many times.

“Do you ever worry about getting pregnant?” Lizzie asks her.

“Protection spell,” Hope answers while reading a book, “A lot of protection spells. I can show you,” she offers and glances at Lizzie.

“Oh no, that’s not necessary.”

“Why you asking then?”

“Just curious. What would your kid even be? Another tribrid?”

“Probably, but we’ll never find out.”

“Why? You don’t want kids?”

More Mikaelsons in the world? More kids who have to live with the Mikaelson legacy? Hope as a mother? Hell no.

“No,” she replies casually.

They fall in silence, Hope reading her book, Lizzie doing something on her phone. Lizzie lets out a sigh after a while.

“Spit it out. I know you desperately want to say something,” Hope says, annoyed that Lizzie doesn’t just speak what is on her mind.

“Is there something going on between you and my sister?” Lizzie asks with a neutral voice.

“We kissed.”

“What? Really?”

“She didn’t tell you? I thought you tell each other everything?”

“You’re right, that’s strange but not the point right now. When did you kiss? Are you-“

“Chill, we only kissed once and it was a mistake. No need to freak out about it, alright?”

“Did she kiss you?”

“No, I kissed her and I’m the one who broke it up.”

“You stopped the kiss?” Lizzie’s voice is full of surprise.

“Yes,” Hope sighs, already wishing for the conversation to stop.

“Mikaelson,” Lizzie looks at her with a dead serious face, “there are two reason that I can think of why you stopped the kiss.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Either you think she is ugly or you love her.”

Hope’s eyebrow shoot to the sky and her eyes snap to Lizzie. “I think you have to explain that.”

“You wouldn’t have stopped the kiss if you hate her or if you don’t care about her. Maybe you would have stopped if you thought that she’s ugly, but you wouldn’t have kissed her in the first place if that was the case and my sister is hot. That leaves only one conclusion,” she says with so much smugness in her voice. “You, Hope Andrea Mikaelson, are in love with my sister.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Come on, you can admit it. I won’t judge.”

“I’m serious, Lizzie.”

Lizzie’s smile fades a little at Hope’s honest expression. “Then why…”

“Because I care about her and about you, Raf, and M.G. I’m trying to be better. I tried. That is why I stopped the kiss. I didn’t want her to do something she would regret.”

“Like me,” Lizzie realizes.

“Like you.”

Hope is surprised when she suddenly feels Lizzie’s arms around her.

“Why are you hugging me?”

“Because I’m proud of you, Hope.”

Hope doesn’t have a reply for that, only, “My name’s Andrea.”

She is high in class one day and no one notices it. She has overdone it a little, never being so high before. Only Josie keeps giving her weird looks.

“Are you high?” Josie asks and gets close to look into her eyes.

“I don’t know, Jo, am I?”

“Oh my god.”

“Andrea is enough.”

Josie looks at her for a second, not understanding what Hope meant. “Really?” she asks once she got it.

Hope laughs at her confusion. “You should have seen your face.”

“This is serious, Andrea. You could get expelled.”

“And?”

“Why are you taking drugs? I don’t understand why you would do that.”

“Fucked up, remember?”

“You can’t always blame everything on your family or your mental health problems.”

“I can’t?”

“No, someday you will have to take responsibility for your actions,” Josie says and walks away.

Hope shrugs and goes to her next class.

It’s 2 am and Hope is painting while smoking a joint.

Painting is almost like the opposite of her life.

Everything is her choice. She decides everything, everything is under her control. No outside influences that destroy everything. Every mistake is either fixable or, if not, you can simply start over without consequence. No matter what she wants, she can do it. Nothing is holding her back, only the limitations of her mind.

She is by no means a control freak. How could she be? Nothing in her life was ever her choice.

Her birth? Her family protecting her at all costs? Her family splitting the Hollow to protect her? Her going to the Salvatore School? Her father and uncle killing themselves?

The only things she did decide backfired on her.

Kidnapping her mom so that her father would come back led to her mother’s death and subsequently her father’s death too.

Taking the Hollow back inside herself led her father killing himself alongside Uncle Elijah.

Going back to school hasn’t been good for a single person. Not for her, not for her friends or anyone.

Painting gives her control in a good way.

She always abuses the control and influence she has over people. Her intelligence and her knowledge always made it easy to manipulate people, to push their buttons and hurt them.

Painting gives her the same control but there she can use it for something good, for something beautiful. She can express herself better with art than with all the languages she knows. Art is her favorite language.

It always has been ever since she can remember.

One day, as she is walking over campus, the wolves jump her. All the older wolves surround her give her a threatening look. Jason is the first one to swing at her, hitting her with a punch.

Hope looks back at him, calmly and even bored. Her face unnerves him, leading him to attack her again. The other join in, which results in Hope lying on the ground, getting kicked and punched by at least ten werewolves.

She could have defended herself. Hell, she could have easily fought them off or even killed them. It wouldn’t even take effort for her to do that. But she doesn’t, too afraid of actually killing someone. Last time was close enough. She won’t risk it.

It’s almost funny, the blood that is running down her forehead. When she needed her blood to find her mother after she was taken, her body didn’t want to bleed. Now her body is kind enough to bleed, bleed all over her body, from various cuts.

“Enough,” Rafael says. He has watched helplessly from the sidelines. They don’t listen, though, only stopping a minute later when Jed calls them off.

“Hey!” Josie comes running. “What the hell is going on?”

“Just showing Hope her place,” Jed says, raising his hand in peace. The wolves go, leaving Hope on the ground with Josie sitting next to her.

“Hope.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding and bruised! You are not fine.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How can it not matter? Why didn’t you defend yourself? You could have died.”

“But I’m not dead,” she says casually and rolls her eyes. “Really, these guys could never kill me.”

“Stop. Please stop.”

“Stop what, Jo?”

“This. Everything. Taking drugs, your self-destructive behavior – just stop.”

“Why would I do that? Let me live my life.”

“Because I care, okay? And it hurts me to see you like this,” Josie says with tears in her eyes.

“I didn’t fight back because I was scared I would kill them,” Hope confesses, because- well, because she feels bad.

“Let’s get you to your room before anyone sees you,” Josie says sadly.

Josie leads her to Hope’s room and helps her getting out of her clothes and cleaning her up from all the blood. It’s fascinating to watch how the bruises disappear. A minute ago, Hope looked like a mess but now she already looks normal again, as if nothing happened.

Josie eyes linger a little too long on her exposed belly.

“Eyes over here, Jo.”

“Hard to do when you are only in bra and panties. Speaking of which, they are also covered in blood.”

“Is that an invitation?” Her eyes glance over at Josie’s lips.

“No. I won’t be one of your conquests,” she says with a serious voice.

The response makes Hope chuckles.

“Thanks for the help but you can go now.”

“Alright.” Their eyes meet and stay. “I’m serious, Andrea. Please stop this self-destructive behavior.”

“Goodnight. Oh, Josie, please don’t tell your dad about this.”

“See you tomorrow.”

It has been a weird night. She was just half naked with Josie next to her cleaning her up. She can’t sleep so she paints and listens to the storm outside.

Maybe Josie is right. She could have died. Well, not really. Still, maybe she shouldn’t let wolves beat her up without protecting herself in the slightest.

In the real world, the wolves would be considered as criminals. Criminals, she can’t really judge them. She has no idea what happened in their lives and why they are the way they are.

Every single member of her family should be in prison for the things they have done.

It is yet another hypocrisy of her existence. Supernatural beings can do what they want without too many consequences.

There is no fairness, no justice. Nothing in life is fair; she learned that early on in her life. Without doing anything, the universe was always trying to punish her.

Trying to kill her before she was born. Trying to kill her when she was a kid. Keeping her family away from her. Never allowing her to be happy.

It is not fair, or maybe it is. Maybe this is the world’s way of punishing her for her family’s sins. Maybe it is some form of justice. Maybe it is just cruel. Or maybe it is just what it is. No one cares and bad things just happen for no reason.

Nothing matters.

There is nothing to care about.

It’s all pointless and she just suffers.

She hangs out with Rafael, Lizzie and Josie the next day. Josie did not tell them what happened judging from the absence of comments and questions.

It’s an okay day, kind of fun, kind of boring. Nothing special. The evening becomes way more interesting after Lizzie and Rafael left for their date.

“How are the wounds?” Josie asks her.

“Why are you asking? Wanna see me naked again?”

“So desperate,” Josie retorts with an eye roll.

“Says the girl who wants to see me without clothes.”

“Keep imagining things, maybe one day they’ll become reality.”

“So you do want to see me naked but just not today?”

“What? Can we talk about something else?”

“I’m completely healed,” Hope answers Josie’s initial question.

“Good.”

“I thought about what you said,” Hope says after a moment of silence.

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I think it’s highly unlikely that you won’t be one of my conquests.”

Josie snorts. “And I thought you were being serious for once.”

“The world is too bad of a place to be serious all the time.”

They continue talking for another hour until the conversation turns more serious.

“Why did you sleep with Lizzie?” Josie asks her.

“I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t want more?”

“No, I just wanted sex and I’m sorry that I hurt her.”

“And that’s the reason why there will never be anything between us.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“But you already have. So many times.”

“I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry. I’m trying to be better.” Her eyes go from Josie to the floor.

Josie sees the sincerity in her eyes. “Good,” she says softly.

Her eyes snap back to Josie’s and she sees so much warmth in them. She leans in, so close that their lips almost touch.

“Promise me I’m not just another girl for you. Promise me that you won’t to the same you did to Lizzie,” Josie says, her eyes already closed.

No.

She shouldn’t.

“I promise,” Hope whispers.

“Good,” Josie replies, pulling away. Hope stares at her with an open mouth. Innocently raising her eyebrow, “Something wrong?” the siphon asks. 

“Not at all. Not at all.”

“By the way, what kind of spell allowed you to see that I set your room on fire? I was researching it but I couldn’t find anything.”

“There was no spell.” Hope shrugs because of Josie’s puzzled expression. “I just guessed that it was you. And you confirmed it. I mean, there is a spell but you’d have to be there for that, letting me access your memories.”

“And I fell for it,” Josie chuckles. “Well, I guess you just gotta be confident to sell a lie.”

“It was an educated guess,” Hope corrects. “Not a lie.”

“Technicalities,” Josie scoffs.

“As a witch you should know that technicalities are very important. There are no loopholes without abusing technicalities.”

“Sure. So why the name change? Hope is such a beautiful and meaningful name.”

“It’s bloody ironic and wrong, is what it is.”

Josie raises an eyebrow, waiting for Hope to go on.

Hope crosses her arms defiantly.

“Fine, what do I have to do for you to tell me?”

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Hope proposes.

“Really?” Josie asks skeptically. “You want to play truth or dare? You, who just avoided answering the question?”

“Well, if you don’t want to…”

“Okay! Let’s play.”

Hope smiles. “Let me get some alcohol,” she says.

She places two glasses on the table and fills them.

“Who starts?” Hope asks.

“Ladies first.”

“We’re both girls, unless you have a secret,” Hope says.

“There you go, that’s your first question for truth then,” Josie retorts.

“All right. Do you have a secret, Jo?”

“Wait, that’s the wrong question.”

“I don’t think it is. Come on, answer me.”

“Who doesn’t have secrets?”

“Answering a question with another question,” Hope chides.

Josie shrugs. “Why did you change your name?”

“Because I hate it.”

“Elaborate.”

“My family decided I would be their hope, someone who’s worth fighting for and now my parents are dead, my family ruined,” Hope explains in a casual tone, one that Josie knows is fake. “Hope? I think not. As I said, it’s ironic and wrong.”

Remembering the last time Josie tried to argue with Hope about her family, Josie lets it go.

Hope empties her glass and asks, “Why are you putting up with me? You should be staying away as far as possible.”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“You love me! Aw, I knew it.”

“Okay, asshole. Who is the best kisser in the school?”

“Just tell me if you want to be kissed.” Josie rolls her eyes. “Penelope. Definitely Penelope.”

“Good to know.”

“You two would be a great couple,” Hope says.

“We’re great best friends.”

“See? That’s one step away from hot lesbian sex.”

“I know you didn’t have any friends as a kid so let me tell you that this is not how it works.”

“You doubt my social skills? Scandalous.”

“Not at all. Why did you dye your hair?”

Hope shrugs. “I wanted to change something. What is something you always wanted to do?”

“Hot lesbian sex,” Josie answers.

“This game doesn’t work if you’re not honest, you know.”

“Who says I’m not honest?”

Hope rolls her eyes. “You know what? Dare. Fuck truth.”

“Uh-huh. I dare you to kiss me.”

No. “You’re tempting fate.”

“As I thought, just empty teasing,” Josie sighs. “So much for dare.”

“I’m doing this for your sake, not mine.” 

“But you’re doing nothing,” Josie replies, watching her nails.

“Fine. Just because it’s a dare.”

They kiss, first slowly and gentle, and then passionately and hungry. Seconds turn into minutes. Hope finds herself on Josie’s lab, hands under her shirt. 

“My room?” Josie breaths between kisses.

“Yes.”

They go to Josie’s room. Hope never brings anyone to her room, always going to the other’s room. The only person she ever had sex with in her room is Penelope.

Sex with Josie isn’t the best she ever had, not even close, but it is by far the gentlest, emotional, and intimate sex she’s ever had.

With Lizzie, she felt years of dislike and hate, with Josie, she feels years of caring.

They are in bed next to each other afterwards.

She is disappointed in herself for being weak. She doesn’t want to but she thinks of all the people her family loved and who died or suffered immensely.

First of Davina, of Jackson, of Tatia, Aurora, Aya, Katherine, Celeste, Gia, Camille, her mom…

All dead because they were loved by someone in her family and there are so many more that she doesn’t know about.

She can’t let that happen to Josie. She wouldn’t forgive herself if the same thing happened to her because Hope cares about her.

She can’t.

No.

She sits up, startling Josie.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to go.”

“Why? What’s going on?” She can hear the distress in Hope’s voice.

“That’s it. We’re done.”

“Wha-what? No. Why? Talk to me.”

“Forget that this ever happened. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Hope-“

“My name is Andrea, when will you fucking learn it?”

She can see the hurt expression and hates herself for it.

“You said- you promised.”

“I lied,” she says and something in her dies that moment.

“Get out.” Josie has tears in her eyes, disbelieving that she fell for it.

Hope looks at her for a second, one last moment and leaves. She runs to her room and throws up once she is in it.

She sees herself in the mirror and hates herself more than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're surprised that this is the last chapter, so am I. The story is not over, at least in my mind. I still have so many ideas.  
The next few months will be insane and I won't have much time to write. I will probably write, maybe even finish this story and post it when it is finished. Maybe I won't, maybe I'll lose interest over time. I don't know.  
For now I will chill and watch season 2.
> 
> So what do you think? How do you feel about this? I'm particularly interested in what you don't like.
> 
> I kinda want to write a Hope/Kai story lol


	5. Despicable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck you
> 
> Title -> Despicable by Grandson. (Great artist, check him out)

She wakes up to Lizzie screaming at her. Well, she didn’t wake up; she was only pretending to be asleep once she heard the siphoner’s obnoxiously loud footsteps coming close to her room.

And Rafael is there too, trying to somewhat stop Lizzie, but he is clearly disappointed by Hope. What a hypocrite.

For once Hope is thankful to having listened to these idiotic girls and their stupid appearance related magic, as magic is the thing that hides here tear strained eyes.

She can’t even be mad at Lizzie for breaking her door and screaming at her. No, she understands, she’s even happy that Lizzie does it. Breaking Josie’s heart deserves that, no, it deserves so much worse.

She sits up and watches Lizzie with a blank face. The only reason why Lizzie hasn’t jumped on her and scratched her eyes out, is Rafael who is holding Lizzie back, with a considerable amount of effort for a vampire.

“I THOUGHT WE WERE FIRENDS,” she screams, salvia hitting Hope’s face. “You said you wouldn’t do that. You didn’t want to break her heart. What about being better, huh? Was that all a lie?” Lizzie pants once she stopped talking.

Hope wipes the salvia away and says, “I was lying to you so you wouldn’t get between me and Josie. Now that it’s over, I don’t need you anymore.”

Raf’s arms drop. His eyes are showing a shock that Hope only has seen a couple of times when she said or did something that really hurt people.

Lizzie appears shocked too, at first, then hurt, and lastly she looks angry, angrier than before. A deep, passionate hatred settles in her eyes.

“I hope you rot in hell with your parents,” she says and leaves. Rafael watches her leave and once she’s gone, he turns to Hope, studying her expression.

Her eyes look lost, fixed on the ground. Otherwise her face shows no emotions; Lizzie could have told her weather forecast and Hope’s face would probably look the same.

“Shouldn’t you,” she begins, startling him, “be running after her, being the good boyfriend that you are?” she asks, never looking at him.

“Damn Andrea, why did you do that? I didn’t expect you-“

“To be as bad as everyone says? Maybe you should listen to the people around you. Would you excuse me, I have to make plans. Breaking hearts doesn’t happen by accident.” Now her eyes meet his. Her face is as unreadable as usual.

“You know, I thought I figured you out. Everyone was talking about you and I observed you a little. I thought you were hurt, and a little troubled. Someone who could easily be fixed with a little love and care, but now, I feel like I have never known you.”

“Why the fuck are you telling me this?” she asks.

“I believed this,” he gestures around,” was all an act, maybe for attention, maybe for something else. Everyone’s been right, you truly are fucked up. From what I can tell, you are a true heir to your father.”

“Get the fuck out of my room and annoy your fucking girlfriend and her idiotic sister with your wisdom,” she replies and tries her best to sound convincing, even though the words tear her apart. “Don’t look at me with those huge, shocked eyes. Come on, go, maybe they are open for a threesome right now.” 

“What’s wrong with you?” He leaves.

She is alone in her room with an open door thanks to Lizzie.

For a moment, she just sits on her bed without moving.

All her friends are now her enemies, thanks to one decision.

She is alone again; maybe that is how she is meant to be. Maybe that is the universe’s way of punishing her.

Loneliness defines her, is her constant companion. If everyone leaves her, - and everyone will, except Marcel and Kol - loneliness will stay there, always and forever.

She catches her hand trembling. The next moment she is on all fours, vomiting on her floor.

The only thing stronger than the loneliness is hate. Overwhelming hate for herself for what she did to Josie and now Lizzie and M.G, her friends.

She almost laughs. _Friends._ Pathetic, she’s pathetic; falling so hard that she has to rely on friends, so weak, and then breaking them. She doesn’t even know what’s worse, being so weak that she needs friends or hurting them.

Her mom would be so disappointed. Did she really believe Hope could bring the supernatural community together? Maybe Hayley didn’t know her daughter as well as she thought she did.

No, the daughter she knew could have accomplished this dream, but Hope is far away from this version of herself.

Hope stumbles to her bathroom, getting toilet paper to clean the floor. She could use magic to do it, but she resents her magic more and more. If she was normal, none of this, none of the stupid shit in her life would have happened.

A thought occurs to her while she cleaning the floor.

It is possible to give your magic up, put it into an object and poof, gone, magic free. She could do that but then she would still be a werewolf.

But she knows the ritual to lock her wolf side away. After all, she almost did it if it wasn’t for her father stopping her.

He wouldn’t want her to do this. Too bad he isn’t here.

It is certainly a possibility, an appealing one; just giving up, giving everything up and start again, as a normal human. With vampire blood, she doesn’t know how to get rid of this, but that doesn’t matter.

There are many positive aspects.

She would need to leave the school, which would be good for Alaric, Josie, Lizzie, M.G., Penelope, for everyone.

They wouldn’t need to deal with her.

She would get rid of being the only tribrid, the fear, the disgust, the loneliness that comes with it.

Andrea Marshall, a normal girl; that is who she could be. Not Hope Mikaelson.

The only problem is, she loves magic, the power and the possibilities that come with it.

Power and responsibility that she cannot be trusted with. Someone like her should not have this kind of power, it’s dangerous, irresponsible.

Everything speaks for giving it all up.

With a sigh, she lights a joint and takes a drag. Then another.

It’s so quiet, as it should be at this late time of the night. It’s surprising that Lizzie didn’t wake everyone up.

The stillness is unsettling Hope.

She eyes the joint, smiles and throws it across the room, on the painting she’s currently working on. The painting starts to burn after a flick of her wrist.

Her eyes lose themselves in the fire. The flames remind her of her mom’s hybrid eyes, the wonder she felt when she first saw them. She wanted to be just like her mom, strong, a leader.

Her mother’s eyes had a warmth that no one else can replicate. No one gives her the same feeling her mom gave her, the love, the warmth, the compassion.

Without her, she’s lost.

The fire grows bigger, more and more of her stuff starts to burn, but she just sits on the floor, watching as everything burns down.

This is her, a fire that burns everyone down so that she can grow.

Like her mom burnt, like her father and uncle burnt.

Smoke fills her room and goes through her open door, filling the hall.

She is glued to the ground, simply staring into the growing fire.

Maybe this is even better. 

Instead of giving up who she is, she could let the fire that she is burn her. She can burn herself and be free, and freeing everyone else.

The fire alarm goes off, the loud sound waking everyone.

By now, half of her room is burnt and the fire moves closer to her. The smoke already makes her cough and it only gets worse.

But she doesn’t even try to move.

“Hope?” she hears Alaric’s voice. “Are you in there?” he can’t see through the thick smoke.

Suddenly, the fire is gone, the smoke disappearing, too.

Hope closes her eyes as Alaric walks in, his daughters following him. She hears a lot of footsteps so there are probably more people.

She leans back, stopping once her back hits her bed. There is still a bit of puke next to her.

“That’s it, she has completely lost it,” Lizzie says to her father.

Hope can’t open her eyes, because if she does, then she has to look at Josie. She will see her eyes and she can’t do that. No, that would break her.

Besides, she doesn’t need to open her eyes to see Lizzie’s anger or Alaric’s sadness that turns to disappointment and anger.

The thing she concentrates on is the smell of her burnt room.

All her clothes and painting are gone, so are many of her birthday presents. Gone, just like that.

It’s funny, one simple action can irreversible destroy something. Broken forever, like her, like her family, and now like her room. At least she still has clothes in another room; they still lay there since her birthday. 

Alaric is saying something but she does not hear him. She is busy laughing in her head about the fire.

“Everyone, get out of here,” Alaric orders but almost no one does. They are standing there, looking at Hope.

Penelope hesitantly walks to Hope and kneels beside her. “Hey, are you alright?”

Hope moves her head in Penelope’s direction, opens her eyes and says, “Of course.”

Penelope studies her expression, the slight smile and the hint of tears in her eyes.

“Let’s get you out of here,” she whispers. Hope watches her with an incredulous expression.

“Are you kidding me?” she almost laughs but stops after seeing Penelope’s dead serious and gentle eyes.

She helps Hope up, still under the eyes of at least fifteen people.

“I need to talk to you,” Alaric says to Hope.

“Not now,” Penelope replies with a tone that silences all arguments.

Hope doesn’t say anything. If she didn’t know it better, she would say she is not herself right now. Her body moves without her noticing what she is doing.

In a way, her body and mind are disconnected, she’s like an observer, like she is standing there, but not being there.

She’s being guided out of her room, through the school and into another room. It takes a while until she realises that it is Penelope’s room.

On the bed, that is where she finds herself. Her eyes are watching the ceiling that is turning and turning, making her dizzy.

“Here,” Penelope says, holding a glass of water. Hope sits up and takes the glass, eyeing it suspiciously.

“There aren’t any drugs in it.”

“Why am I here?” Hope asks after a long moment of silence.

“You should sleep.”

“Why?”

“Because you need sleep, obviously.”

“You hate me,” Hope says. “So why am I here?”

Penelope sighs. “Because I still care about you, alright? Even after everything, even if you don’t care about me.”

“I think I’ll never understand the stupidity of some people,” Hope replies and lies back down, again watching the ceiling.

“Some would say stupidity, others human decency.” She smiles.

“Oh, you don’t know what I have done.”

Her smile fades. “Mhm.”

“When I wake up, I’ll tell you and you can kick me out.”

Penelope shakes her head and moves her hand over her face. “Goodnight.”

When Hope wakes up, no one is there. Fresh clothes are lying next to her, on the place where Penelope slept.

Being in Penelope’s bed is, well, weird. She hasn’t been here in so long. The smell is the same, she notices as she stretches her legs.

She’s wondering about Penelope’s whereabouts but then she remembers that it is a normal school day and that she should be in class as well.

Groaning, she gets up and takes the clothes. She rolls her eyes at the brand new tooth brush that was waiting for her in the bathroom.

There are two things she could do right now. Either she goes to class or she goes somewhere else. Alaric said something about wanting to talk to her, so that would be an option, too.

But seeing his disappointment or anger or sadness or whatever he is feeling today isn’t exactly appealing.

She’s looking at herself in the mirror. There is no makeup on her face. She looks so much younger without it.

The blonde hair shines at her and she hates it. Seeing herself as the young girl that she is makes her sad. It reminds her how she shouldn’t be who she is, how her parents should be there with her.

The hair, it’s annoying her. It’s just wrong. So she makes her way through the room, searching.

She finds a joint on a table and smiles.

After finding a scissor, she goes back to the bathroom, takes her hair in her hand and cuts it off.

She stares into her own eyes and wonders if they have always looked this empty.

Her hair is about as long as Penelope’s now, but short hair looks way better on Penelope. It looks worse than before, she thinks, smiling.

Everything she does only makes things worse, apparently.

She goes back and sits on the bed. Sun light is shining through the window, falling on her hand.

Why would Penelope welcome her back? It makes no sense. No need to worry about that, though since she will hate her when she finds out about Josie.

She leaves the room and goes to her own.

The door is missing; so much of her stuff is gone - books, clothes, so many things. Only now does it really hit her that almost all her paintings are reduced to ash.

The painting above her bed is still there. Of course it is. Her father’s painting seems to be indestructible. She couldn’t destroy it and neither could the fire.

It’s almost taunting her, the way it just hangs there.

Sighing, she sits down on her bed. She’s not sad or angry or feeling anything in particular. It just is, nothing more, nothing less.

That is what life is for her, it just is. And yesterday, that fire seemed to be one escape, one glorious and permanent solution. But of course, it wouldn’t be a real solution.

She would simply wake up again. Endless years of misery await her.

She smiles. It’s almost peaceful, sitting in the ashes of her life and thinking about her future. She would be on this planet for a very long time and live with all her fault, sins, guilt, she would live with herself.

Before she thought that she should be punished more for everything that she and her family have done, but now she realises that this is her punishment - living forever as herself.

Her flame will burn while others will cease to exist. She will be there, hurting, killing, destroying lives and hating herself all the while.

She walks to her desk - which hasn't been reduced to ashes -, sits down and solves some math problems. At least she tries to, but she can’t focus. It’s more of a staring at the sheet, trying to focus on the problems but failing miserably.

So instead she gets one of her grimoires. Her spellbooks are protected by spells so that a simple fire or some liquid can't destroy the knowledge in them. She looks at one particular page. It’s actually unnecessary since she knows exactly how the spell is done. But just looking at the page makes it real.

Putting a curse on herself, that’s not how she sees it. It’s not a curse, it is a blessing.

She leans back and sighs. Is that really what she wants? Her eyes look out of the window, at the blue sky. Does she really want to give up a part of herself?

Her parents would never want this, she knows this, but this is not about what they want. It’s about what she wants.

The sound of a knock breaks her out of her thoughts. Alaric is leaning against the doorframe, watching her with a calm face.

“Here to yell at me?”

He shakes his head and walks in. After a moment of seemingly thinking about the right words, he says, “I think you should leave this school.”

She doesn’t react, instead studying him. He doesn’t look sad or angry, no, his face shows nothing.

This is the first time that his face really unsettles her. Normally his overly emotional reactions annoy her. She hates it when he acts like he is her dad. But this, his empty eyes hit her in a way that she didn’t see coming.

Has she really broken him to such an extent? So much so that he just wants her gone? He, Alaric, the guy whose life mission it is to help broken kids, has given up on her?

That certainly is an accomplishment.

“Am I suspended or expelled?”

“If you get your shit together, then I will welcome you with open arms. If not,” he shakes his head, “then I don’t want to see you here again. Please leave until tomorrow,” he says and leaves.

She’s left alone in her room. Well, that is not exactly what she expected to happen.

What now?

She gets a suitcase and stuffs her grimoires, remaining books and paintings in it. She leaves all her school related things in her room since she won’t then them anymore.

Once she finished packing, she sits on the floor and takes a last look at her room, her home for a lot of years.

Surprisingly the thought of leaving hurts in a very strange way. After all this time hating this place and what it represents in her life, leaving hurts. It’s yet another thing she lost.

She considers whether she should say goodbye to anyone, but no one would miss her anyway, so what’s the point?

The only remaining question is if she should tell Josie the truth. It doesn’t matter as she will leave, but Josie deserves to know the truth. But maybe it is easier for Josie to just hate Hope.

What’s worse, letting her think that she just used her or telling her the truth and leaving immediately after?

Her father would just leave, believing that it would be better if she doesn’t know. He would control the situation as much as he can.

Her mom would tell the truth, believing that Josie should have all the information so that she can make her own decision, even if the truth hurts.

One is considered the 'Great Evil' while the other was loved by everyone around her. It should be an easy choice.

But talking to Josie directly is terrifying, so she gets a pen and writes a message. One spell later, the message is lying on Josie’s bed, waiting to be read.

Hope stands up, takes her suitcase and leaves the school. Once outside, she considers who to call.

Freya, Kol or Rebekah?

“Hope, sweetheart.” Just hearing her voice fills Hope with familiar warmth that she hasn’t felt in a while.

“Aunt Rebekah, can you pick me up from school? I got suspended.”

“Of course. What have you done?”

“Way too much to tell you right now. When will you be there?”

“We were on our way to you, to be honest, but it will take another five hours at least.”

“Okay, thank you. See you later.”

“Wait. Hope, are you alright?”

“I go by Andrea now and I’m fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We can talk later.”

“Love you.”

She ends the call and sits down. Penelope’s clothes would stay with her now, it seems. After opening her suitcase, she gets a book – Paradise Lost – and reads; nothing better than a protagonist with loads of daddy issues, even if the protagonist is Satan – especially when the protagonist is Satan.

After around an hour she hears someone approaching her. “I heard you got suspended.”

“Who told you that?”

“No one, I just saw your suitcase. You look hot in my clothes, by the way.” Penelope sits down next to her and eyes her. “What the hell have you done to your hair, though?”

“Looks terrible, doesn’t it?” Hope asks with a grin.

“I certainly have to get used to it.”

“Hm, you can’t.”

“So you actually got suspended?” Penelope asks, a little bit of disappointment coming through in her voice.

“Yeah.”

“For what exactly?”

“He didn’t say, but I imagine it’s for everything that I’ve done in the last months. There’s a lot.”

Penelope laughs and Hope smiles at her.

“I’m keeping your clothes,” Hope says.

“Sure, I have more than enough.”

“So, why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“To say goodbye, duh.”

“You didn’t know I was leaving.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” Penelope sighs.

“You know what, I’m not even gonna ask why. You won’t answer.”

“It’s very annoying when someone evades every question like this, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, can’t imagine how annoying it is to talk to me,” Hope says. “So I assume you haven’t heard the latest news considering you’re still talking to me.”

“Oh, I have heard about it. I think the entire school has.”

“They really told everyone?”

“No. Lizzie’s yells were just hard to overhear.”

“And you are still talking to me?”

The witch shrugs. “Do you want me to hate you?”

“Aren’t you and Josie like, best friends or something?” Hope asks.

“Yes.”

Hope looks at her, but Penelope shrugs again. They sit in silence for a while.

“What are you going to do now?” Penelope eventually asks.

“My aunt will pick me up and then... I have no idea.”

“I could come with you,” she offers.

“Something is very wrong with you,” Hope replies.

“I could say the same to you. We’re both perfectly broken.”

“If you say so. Why do you want to leave?”

“I hate my life?” Penelope says and looks at her with raised eyebrows.

“Do something about it,” Hope scoffs and rolls her eyes. “If you hate it, change it.”

“Do you even realize how hypocritical you sound?”

“I do. Trust me, I do.”

“So you give me this advice but don’t you listen to it yourself?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” They look at each other and share a laugh. “No, I have to do this alone.”

“You always do everything alone. Needing friends is not a weakness, Hope. And no, I’m not gonna call you Andrea.”

“Fair enough.”

“Call me or text me,” Penelope says and stands up.

“Maybe.”

“Goodbye, Hope Mikaelson.”

“See ya in hell.”

And so Hope is alone again, still waiting for her aunt.

What is next? They will probably go to New Orleans and then she will have to explain why she got suspended. But after that, she has no idea what she is going to do.

It’s exciting. She can do whatever she wants for once. She’s free.

She goes back to reading since there is nothing else to do.

“Seriously?”

Her heart stops for a second.

“Hello, Josie.”

“A note? What is that even supposed to mean? ‘It wasn’t a lie’.” She’s standing there with her arms crossed and an angry face.

“I lied when I said that I lied. You’re not just another girl.”

Josie shakes her head, not sure what to believe anymore.

“Then why did you say it? If you didn’t mean it, why lie?”

“It would be easier if you just went back inside and forgot about me,” Hope says, letting herself fall back so that she is lying on her back, looking at the sky.

Josie walks to her head and looks down on her. “Well, I’m not gonna make it easy for you. I won’t leave until you answer my questions.”

“Sit down.”

Josie hesitates for a second but gives in, sitting next to Hope, who is still lying on her back.

“You really shouldn’t be lying in the dirt with a skirt like this,” Josie says.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“So why did you lie?”

“To protect you.”

Josie rolls her eyes at the reply. “Of course. You’re an idiot.”

“You can call me a lot of things but I’m pretty sure that I’m not an idiot.”

“No, you are a giant idiot.”

“Okay.” Hope shrugs.

They fall in silence. Josie lies back too, also watching the bright blue sky.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Hope asks.

“Sure.”

“I love to paint the sky. The clouds give you endless motives. There are so many colours that you don’t really think about. I mean, look at it. When you look straight up you see a deep blue but it gets lighter and lighter, almost white when you look around.”

Hope seems lost in the colours, as she stops talking.

“Hope?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t need to leave. I can talk to my dad.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Leaving is a good thing for me. I think.”

“To be honest, I don’t know what to think about you right now. I’m still mad at you, but I don’t want you to leave.”

“I need to get out of this place,” Hope says.

Josie doesn’t reply. Instead she does the same as Hope, watching the sky. It really looks beautiful. “You didn’t correct me,” Josie realises.

Hope turns her head to look at her, confusion apparent.

“Hope.”

“Oh, didn’t even notice.”

“So can I call you Hope again?” Josie asks.

“Do what you want. I won’t be here to hear it, anyway.”

“You sure you want to leave?”

She’s quiet for a moment, really thinking about the question. Finally, she says, “I don’t want to, I need to.”

Hope looks at her with a sad smile. “Do you ever think about being a cloud?” she asks.

“Not really.”

“They can’t do anything wrong. They are just going wherever the wind takes them and they just are. It’s horrible, isn’t it?”

Josie doesn’t know why that is horrible and she doesn’t question it either.

Hope sits up, Josie following her. They look at each other and Hope takes her hand.

“Can you leave me alone?” she asks.

Josie glances at their hands, then looks back into Hope’s eyes. “Okay.”

But she doesn’t leave. She keeps the eye contact. “I forgive you,” she whispers.

“You really shouldn’t.”

“Not your decision.”

“This school is full of idiots,” Hope says.

“It’s a school, what do you expect?”

“Josie?”

“Hm?”

“Please go.” She removes her hand and lies back down.

Josie looks at her for a moment before standing up.

“Will you be back?”

“No idea.”

Josie nods silently.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll miss me and all that crap, I know. Just go,” Hope says in a casual tone.

Josie’s eyebrows rise. “You always think you know what people want to say.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Well, enlighten me. What were you gonna say?”

“I guess you have to live with the fact that you will never know what I wanted to tell you,” Josie says, a smirk on her face. “Unless you come back, then I may tell you.”

Hope watches her with a single raised eyebrow. “Nice try. Give Penelope a kiss from me. You two would be adorable together.”

“Just friends,” Josie replies.

“I hope so. I’ll have you both, one day.” The way she says it sounds like a promise. “See ya in hell,” Hope says and turns her head away, dismissing Josie.

“Goodbye.” It takes her a minute until she is finally able to turn around and leave. Why does it hurt so much? She may never see her again. The thought leaves her feeling empty inside, an emptiness that hurts.

Especially now that she knows she wasn’t just another girl for Hope; that she mattered. It makes it so much worse.

She looks back and sees Hope sitting with her back turned in her direction. Her head is bowed. She almost looks like she’s crying.

Josie closes her eyes, takes a breath, and goes back to the school, leaving Hope alone, like she asked her to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this show


	6. Swan Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S NOT ABOUT FUCKING SHIPS
> 
> As I'm basically only writing this when I'm emotionally distressed, I won't update regularly. Writing is just me dealing with my life and emotions.  
And I hate you all.
> 
> Oh yeah, trigger warning. A lot of this chapter is torture. Also trigger warning for (attempted) rape. Hope has a blast this chapter.

Hope is sitting outside, watching how the last of the sunlight disappears. Her skin is burning under the full moon. All she wants is to turn and run as a wolf, to be free from all her thoughts and feelings.

But she isn’t here for fun.

So she gets up and walks to the door that she had been sitting in front of for half an hour. If she hadn’t been so distracted by the sky, she would have rung way earlier. But beauty needs to be appreciated. She’s an artist, after all.

A really hot man, Hope has to admit, opens the door and looks at her suspiciously. “What can I do for you?” he asks.

“Nothing, but I hope I can do something for you.”

“Do I know you?”

“Not personally, but yes, you do know me.”

“Well, who am I talking to?”

“Hope Mikaelson,” she answers, smirking and extending her hand.

“Devil’s spawn, ah. Hi.” He takes the offered hand and looks down at their hands. “I hope you didn’t put a hex on me.”

“I didn’t, cross my heart.”

“Why are you here?”

“Can I come in?”

“Who is it?” a female voice from inside the house asks.

“Hope Mikaelson,” he answers.

A second later his wife appears next to him. “Mikaelson?”

“Hi,” Hope says, waving her hand.

“Hey,” she says uncertainly. “Do you wanna come in?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Hope wasn’t expecting to be in Virginia this soon again, but Mystic Falls seemed to be a good starting point.

“So...what can we do for you?” the woman asks.

“I would like to talk with you and your husband, Mrs. Salvatore. Or can I call you Elena?”

“Elena is fine. What do you want to talk about?” Elena questions, already more relaxed, and gestures Hope to sit down.

“Want a drink?” Damon calls from the kitchen.

“Sure,” Hope answers. “I want to apologize,” Hope continued after Damon handed her a glass of bourbon.

He and his wife are sitting next to each other on their couch, opposite to Hope.

“Apologize? For what?” Damon asks sceptically.

“For everything that my family put you through. For sacrificing you, for killing you again, for killing your friends, for-“

“Okay, we get it,” Damon interrupts her. “Your family put us through a lot, but why are you apologizing for them?”

“You didn’t do anything to us,” Elena adds.

“My family’s sins are also my sins,” she says lightly, almost happily.

“So what? You want to apologize to everyone who your family has wronged?” the doppelganger questions.

“Everyone who is still alive and who I can find,” Hope replies, nodding.

“You are putting yourself to an impossible task,” Elena says with a chuckle.

“I’m Hope Mikaelson, miracle tribrid baby. Nothing is impossible. But yeah, I have a long road ahead of me.”

“To how many people have you been?”

“You two are the first.”

“Well, miracle kid, you didn’t need to come to us. We and the Mikaelsons are even,” Damon replies.

“I’m here for what my blood did and not what you did to them.”

“All right, apology accepted,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Thank you. Can I get a vial of your blood? From both of you.”

Hope spends the next month tracking down everyone who her family has hurt, harmed, killed, whatever, to ask for forgiveness. She can’t undo what her family did, but she can apologize for what had happened to them.

Most don’t accept her apology and throw her out either when she tells them her name or when they are finished ranting about her audacity or whatever for coming to their homes.

Often she is treated with the utmost anger. They call her naive, stupid and other more extreme terms that would have made her father kill them.

Some accept her apology and she has had some really nice chats with some of the people.

One witch in particular taught her some new magic that she can use for her paintings. There was one man who gifted her his violin which she now carries around in her backpack – of course protected by a spell.

She tries her best to be as honest and upfront as she can be. No lies, no manipulation, honest apologies, that is her mission. And maybe she isn’t so bad at that.

Hope just crossed another name off her first list for the first four states (Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia) after finding out that the person she is searching has died two years ago.

She is currently in Georgia, the forth state on her list, sitting at a bus stop. Travelling by bus isn’t her preferred choice, but it is her only possibility for being alone on her trip.

She could use a car, but she has developed a hatred for cars.

Sometimes she wishes she could call someone but she threw her phone away on the first day of her trip and for good reason. She needs all her attention and no one is supposed to interrupt her.

Penelope is pissed, probably. She asked her to call. Oh well, she will survive it.

The bus takes her to her next destination, a vampire named Sophie Dunquesne, wife of Alistair Dunquesne, a widow now. Her (ex-) husband, Alistair, was killed by Klaus a couple of years ago.

She quickly found her location thanks to a black magic empowered locator spell; either she uses black magic or sometimes she has belongings of the people thanks to her father’s habit of keeping letters of his victims.

Hope stops before she rings the bell to draw the house. It’s a thing that she does, drawing the houses or places where the people she visits live. Every time her notebook is full, she sends it back to New Orleans.

It’s a nice house, judging from the outside.

She knocks as she cannot find a bell and prepares herself to talk and possible rejection.

A beautiful blonde haired woman appears behind the door with a questioning look, which isn’t surprising since she does live in a very closed off place where not a lot of people would visit her.

“Hello.”

“Hi. Can we talk?”

“Who are you?”

“Hope Mikaelson.”

Sophie expression turns from questioning to horrified, terrified; the glass of wine in her hand drops to the ground, breaking apart.

“Please don’t kill me,” she pleads while stumbling backwards.

“I don-“

“NO! Please! Please.” She loses her balance and falls. On all fours, she’s begging Hope to spare her life. This hasn’t happened before, Hope thinks uncomfortably.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Hope tries but to no avail. The crying woman turns away from her and doesn’t seem to hear a single word anymore, so Hope decides to go inside.

She quickly finds the kitchen and gets a glass of water, which she places on a table in the living room.

Next she drags the weeping woman to the living room, onto the couch.

One spell later and Sophie calms down, her breathing evening and she finally looks at Hope.

“What have you done to me?” the vampire asks hesitantly.

“Calming spell.”

“Why?”

“I want to talk to you and not kill you,” Hope replies, handing her a handkerchief that she carries with her – parting gift from Aunt Rebekah. “I mean you no harm,” she reassures since the vampire didn’t take it.

“I am here to ask for your forgiveness for what my family put you through.”

Sophie looks at her with an unreadable expression – somewhere between incredulity, fear and a tiny bit of amusement.

“I’m serious.”

She finally takes the handkerchief and wipes the tears from her face.

“You don’t want to kill me?”

“No. I want to apologize. I know I can’t change what happened, but I am sorry for what happened to you and your husband.”

“He wanted to kill you,” she says quietly.

“Sorry?”

“I told him he should stay here. Alistair was a fool. He thought he could kill Klaus Mikaelson,” she flinched just speaking his name, “and he planned on killing you. ‘Eradicate his bloodline’, that’s what he said.”

“Can I do anything for you?”

Hope sighs at the incredulous expression she receives.

“No, thank you.”

“You have a nice house.”

“Alistair built it. It was the last thing he did for me. We were planning on adopting a little daughter.” She falls quiet, losing herself in thoughts. “Do you want anything? Something to drink?”

“Uh, sure.”

She gets up and leaves for the kitchen. “Wine?” she asks.

“Yeah.” Why not?

Sophie comes back with a bottle of wine and two glasses, handing one to Hope. It takes a while but the vampire starts to relax.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“You’re not so bad. For a Mikaelson.”

“Thanks,” Hope replies with a smile. “You are pretty okay too.”

“How old are you? If you don’t mind telling me.”

“Sixteen.”

“Wow. Had a hard life, huh?”

“You could say that, yeah.”

“So what is a sixteen year old girl doing here at my house?”

“Apologizing for a thousand years of sins, obviously.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sophie asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Family sins are my sins.”

“You’re not responsible for what your father did.”

“He killed your husband to protect me, so yes, I’m partly responsible.”

“You were just a kid back then and Kl- he decided that on his own.”

“Let me blame myself for what I want to blame myself for, all right?” Hope replies lightly.

Sophie shrugs and refills her glass.

After an hour, Hope says, “I should go. The last bus is leaving soon.”

“Oh please, stay here.”

“You sure?”

“I got plenty of space as you can see,” she says, gesturing around. “I insist on it. Come on, I will show you the rest of the house.”

Hope has to admit that it is a really nice house. Big, spacious, great location, stunning view, great furniture, and excellent taste in art; all that is missing is someone to share it with.

“You’ve got a lovely home.”

“Thank you.” Sophie smiles at her and Hope feels oddly accomplished by this smile.

“You’ll sleep here,” the vampire says, leading Hope into a guestroom.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I just had the best day in ages. Thanks to you.”

Hope smiles and Sophie leaves.

Maybe people aren’t that bad. A woman who was terrified of her a little more than an hour ago is letting her sleep in her house.

And all that was needed was some good will, an apology and attention.

Maybe she’s not as bad with people as she thinks she is.

She goes in the bathroom and looks in the mirror. Only now does she realise how similar she looks to Sophie – at least hair wise.

Self hatred, for once she doesn’t feel it when seeing her own reflection. Now it’s more something – and she cannot believe it herself – like hope.

She smiles slightly, just with the corner of her lips. Sighing but still smiling, she goes back to the guestroom and sleeps. No nightmares follow her into her dreams.

The next morning Sophie already awaits her with breakfast.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Hope says once they started eating.

“Nonsense. I wanted to do this.”

“Well, thank you.”

They eat in comfortable silence. Hope helps her clean up. “I should go now,” she says, strangely not feeling the urge to throw up.

“Okay. One last thing,” Sophie replies and gets up. “I made you brownies.” Hope has to smile at Sophie’s incredibly excited face.

“Thank you.” Hope places the box with the brownies in her backpack.

“No problem. Take this,” the vampire says, giving Hope a note. “I wrote my phone number down in case you ever need someone to talk.”

“Goodbye Sophie. It was nice meeting you.”

“Same goes for you, Hope Mikaelson. Should I drive you anywhere?”

“No, thank you. I will take the bus.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.“

They are walking to the door where Hope sees the broken glass from the day before. She kneels down and picks it up. Closing her eyes, she channels her magic into the broken glass, repairing it.

“Thank you,” Sophie says after taking the wine glass.

“Hey, I know it’s not my place,” Hope starts. “But he died years ago. Maybe it’s time to move on and share this place with someone new.”

Sophie sighs in response and says, “You’re probably right. I will think about it. But, Hope, you are good at hiding it but I can see that you are a very sad person, so maybe you should find someone as well.”

“See you in hell,” Hope says and walks away, smiling.

She’s on the bus, has been on it for hours, actually, just aimlessly driving around. Her first list is almost finished and she soon needs to make a second one before she can continue her trip.

The sky has been distracting her. The way it looks, the way it changes, something hits Hope.

The light blue turning golden, the few white-orange clouds, the trees in the distance, it is so beautiful and depressing.

She starts crying. She cries and cries, with no apparent reason.

Why does she always ruin the good things in her life? She had a place; she had someone who cared about her; more than one person. Why did she ruin it?

Why did she push Josie away? She’s so stupid.

It’s been weeks and only now does she break down.

It hurts. So fucking much.

She had something good and she ruined it, like she always does. And all this time she told herself she did it to protect her.

No, it’s true, just oh so stupid. Protect her from what? Her family’s enemies? Well, yes, but that is just an excuse.

An excuse that she can give herself to justify to break Josie’s – and everyone’s – heart when, in reality, it is her fear of abandonment that made her break the heart of a person she loved.

Loved.

Oh God, she loves her.

And she pushed her away. No one can leave her if she leaves first.

And Josie still forgave her.

She doesn’t deserve her.

Or Penelope.

Or any good person.

And certainly not happiness.

She just keeps crying.

Luckily, the bus is almost completely empty, so no one annoys her.

The bus stops and two men enter the bus. She doesn’t notice them at first. Only once they stop in front of her does she pay attention.

“Hope Mikaelson?”

“Who is asking?”

One of the men blows some kind of powder in her face which makes her lose consciousness. The last thing she sees is their cold glares.

Chains are all over her upper body, tying her around a chair and blocking her from moving her arms. Her legs are tied up as well.

She’s disorientated; it takes a moment before she remembers what happened. One look around tells her everything she needs.

A barn, two men – they will torture her and she will die here, alone.

She tries to do magic but to no avail. Of course the chains block her magic. Her arms and legs are completely unmovable; she’s at their mercy.

Her mind is racing with what she could do but there is nothing.

No one knows where she is.

Her phone is gone.

There is probably a cloaking spell on her.

And worst of all, no one has any idea about her situation. Her family thinks she is just busy travelling. They could torture her for months and no one would suspect anything.

No one will come and save her. She is alone.

She lets her head fall back and tries to breathe, tries to remain as calm as possible. The one thing she has left is her mind.

“She is finally awake,” one of the men says.

“Do you know who we are?”

“Does the name Lucien Castle ring any bells?” the first man asks because of her blank face.

“Should it?” she replies.

“You stupid bitch.“ His slap was hard enough for the chair to almost fall over.

“Yes, I know him. Tell me, why am I here? I was like, what, three years old when he died?”

“Family sins are my sins,” the other guy recites her words and imitates her voice.

“You followed me?”

“Something like this.”

“What do you want from me?” she asks, trying to sound bored.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“Revenge?”

“Justice,” he says and punches her, splitting up her lip.

“Let me introduce us. My name is Anton and my friend here is Viktor.”

She glares at them and replies, “How smart do you think it is to do,” she stops to find the right words, “whatever you think you’re doing? My family will miss me and I think I don’t need to tell you what they will do to you once they find me.”

“Oh, I think your _family_,” he says it as if it is an insult, “won’t save you this time. We have been following you for a while, Hope, or should we call you Andrea?”

She tries her very hardest to not let her mask of calmness slip. Each of their words confirms her worst fears. But, she cannot be weak, not right now.

“So what exactly is your plan? Torture me? Kill me?” she asks calmly.

Anton grabs her chin and moves his thumb over her healing lips. “You will find out soon enough.” He hits her and hits her and hits her, again and again.

Blood is dropping down on her clothes and the chains. There’s a cut over her left eyebrow, and on her cheek.

Her head is snapped back by Viktor who is pulling her hair.

“Such lovely hair,” he says and tears a handful of it out, together with scalp. She screams like she has never before.

She’s breathing heavily, the pain slowly easing due to her healing abilities. Her eyes glow amber. “These chains might stop me from using magic, but you are forgetting something,” Hope says, her bones starting to break.

A second later she is on Viktor, tearing into him.

Freedom is so close, the feeling so heightened as a wolf. She is running towards the exit.

“Oh, look at her,” Anton says mockingly and laughs.

_No. _No.

She opens her eyes to find herself back on the chair, chained up, blood over her face, hair missing.

“Get out of my head,” she hisses.

“Just showing you that there is no escape,” Anton replies smugly, holding his hands up and walking backwards. “This is going to be _so_ much fun.”

The sound of her screams is filling the barn as they repeatedly set her hands on fire. In the last two hours they hit her until she nearly fell unconscious, burnt various body parts and watched how she healed.

“Which finger do you want to keep? Left thumb or right?” Anton asks.

“I’d say right,” Viktor answers for her.

He cuts her left thumb off before she can even say anything. Her throat is burning from screaming. Her eyes are focused on her hand, at the blood that is colouring her hand red.

She can’t breathe, she can’t. _She can’t._

And they hit her and hit her and hit her.

Her nose has been broken at least three times.

All the time she can hear Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake playing in the background. Of fucking course. Had they already been following her on her birthday? At least she’s being tortured by people with good taste in music.

“She has beautiful nails, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I agree. Let’s change that,” Viktor replies, handing Anton the pliers.

“Please stop,” she whimpers. “Please.”

“Look who’s begging. Where is the famous Mikaelson confidence?” Anton asks, sounding a little disappointed. “It’s too late for begging.” He takes her right hand and pulls the nail of her index finger.

She can do nothing to stop them. Nothing. _Nothing._

Her whole body is shaking.

Tears and blood are mixing on her face.

“Let me go. Please,” she begs. “PLEASE!” she screams and earns herself another punch.

“One more word and you will lose your tongue,” he says, holding her chin. He bends over and licks over her face, tasting her half dried blood. “Delicious,” he hums.

They continue for hours.

At some point she loses the ability to scream. She tries to but she can’t. All that’s coming out is a whimper and silent chokes.

She throws up and hits Anton with her puke.

Oh no.

Furiously, he hits her right leg with a hammer, breaking her leg.

She passed out at some point, after hours of torture.

She’s alone when she wakes up. The only thing that she can perceive in the darkness is the faint melody of Swan Lake. It has to be the third time she has heard the same part since she got here.

Don’t they have any other music? Is it really necessary that they add this layer of torment? The positivity that she connects with the song because of her birthday is washed away by these new, horrible memories. 

It is dark inside, only the moon shines through some cracks. Her heightened senses can’t make out anyone near. They must have left after she fell unconscious, although-

She bends over as far as the chains allow her, feeling a sudden pain in her kneecap or rather what is left of it.

Her jeans is ripped apart around her knee and she sees – even with the little light – that her kneecap is shattered, presumably by a hit from the hammer.

Leaning back, she tries not to throw up; the smell from the first time is still insulting her nose. 

Her mind is racing, trying to come up with things she could do but there is nothing.

They don’t react to threats and it is far too late for them to back off, they don’t react to her pleads for mercy, and no one will come to save her.

Most powerful creature on the planet and she is completely powerless. She chokes out a cry.

That’s all she can do - cry.

Breathe, she tries to breathe, she tries...

All she can focus on are her missing thumb and the burning where her hair used to be and the fucking music.

“Hey-“

_No_. Not again.

“Hope, what happened? Where are you?”

“Get out of my head!”

“Hope, what is going on?”

She finally looks at her and stares. “Aunt Freya, are you really here?”

“Yes.” She sees her aunt kneel in front of her, trying to take her hand but failing since she is just a projection.

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” she cries. “Are you really here? Please... please.”

“I am here, you hear me? I need you to tell me everything you know. Who did this to you?” Freya asks with such hatred in her voice that Hope has never heard from her aunt before.

“Vampires. Viktor and Anton. Friends of Lucien Castle. Aunt Freya, please save me. Please,” she whimpers. “No, please, no.” She hears footsteps approaching. “You need to go,” she says, alarmed and with big, teary eyes.

“Help is on the way. Hope-“

“Go!”

She watches Freya disappear just before the two men come back, carrying a whole new set of weapons.

“Perfect timing,” Anton says as he sees her. “You’re awake.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Viktor says after seeing her eyes fixed on the bag he’s carrying. “There is a lot of fun in here. Just not for you.”

“Why are you doing this? This isn’t justice,” she tries and immediately gets hit again.

“Who allowed you to speak?” Anton asks angrily. “But to answer your question, this is justice. Justice for what your father and your family have done to Lucien. To us. To everyone. No amount of torture will _ever_ amount to what they have done.”

She lets her head fall forward in defeat and screams when they burn her right index finger - the one with the missing nails. Their chuckles are barely audible under her heavy yet shallow breaths and loud heartbeat.

“Ever tasted human flesh?”

She doesn’t react, just stares at the knife in Anton’s hand. With a shrug, he cuts a part of her cheek out, revealing teeth and gums.

“Open your mouth, the train’s coming,” he says in a child like voice. He presses his thumb in the wound because she doesn’t open her mouth.

In a loss of patience, he forces her mouth open and sticks her own skin in. Still holding her chin, he makes her chew and swallow her own skin.

“You will lose your right little toe if you throw up,” he says challengingly.

It doesn’t matter how hard she tries to stop it, her body has other ideas. She throws up. This time they are out of reach and they even clean it up.

“Little toe it is.” Anton cuts her toe off without hesitation and holds it like a trophy in front of her eyes.

They exchange looks and before she has any idea of what they plan, she feels them both biting down in her neck, drinking from her.

And during everything, she hears Swan Lake play in the background.

If she didn’t know better, she would have said that Anton just had an orgasm.

“Tribrid blood is the best thing I have ever tasted. Jesus Christ.”

Maybe he did have one.

Viktor looks just as amazed but he remains silent.

She spends the next three hours being used as a blood bag, as a canvas for knife drawings, being burned, losing another fingernail...

At some point she completely stops talking and only hardly reacts which only triggers them more. So now they are in a contest of who can get a reaction of out her. But even that becomes boring, so they come up with a new idea.

Anton injects her something and removes the chains a minute later.

“Don’t even try to use magic. The injection I just gave you, it’s a potion specifically designed for you to prevent you from using your magic and your wolf abilities.”

She doesn’t react, so they pull her up.

“We should have started with this,” Anton tells Viktor. “When she was still hot and not looking like a piece of shit.”

She barely registers Anton pulling the t-shirt over her head and Viktor getting rid of her pants.

Soon, she is standing in nothing but her underwear.

“Do you want to or...?”

“The honour is all you, my friend,” Viktor replies.

Anton opens her bra and tears the panties off her. Now she is absolutely naked except for her two necklaces, her bracelets, and her rings.

She doesn’t even try to cover up, fearing to be hit again.

“You know what is gonna happen now?” he asks, holding her four fingered left hand and looking into her eyes.

He forces her down on her knees and unbuckles his belt.

She looks up at him with dead eyes when, suddenly, he is thrown a few feet away.

A second later she sees Marcel with his hand in Viktor’s chest. She feels Freya’s warm and familiar arms wrap around her but her eyes are glued to Marcel and how he rips Viktor’s heart out, how his dead body drops to the ground.

Freya’s holding Anton in place with a spell as he yells insults at Marcel. Rebekah picks him up, holding him by his throat.

“Stop,” Hope says quietly. All the eyes in the room, of people she can’t recognize right now, snap to her.

She stands up and walks, more jumps on one foot to him since her knee hurts too much, where her aunt holds him.

Still naked, she stands in front of him and looks into his eyes, his fearful and hateful eyes.

Her left thumb, her right little toe, two fingernails, her hair, parts of her face, her blood, she can see and feel everything.

She punches into his chest and grabs his heart.

She’s staring at him.

Her arms are shaking.

Her whole body is shaking.

She stares at him.

She stares into his eyes and forgets everyone around them.

Tears fall over her face and she stares harder, shakes harder.

She pulls her hand out – without his heart.

Her mouth is open but she can’t breathe, just stares with wide eyes, her lips trembling.

His head, gone one second later, cut off by her aunt’s hand with one swift movement.

She stumbles backwards and falls on the cold ground. 

Everyone is around her, talking to her, talking to each other but all she can see is them losing their head, their heart.

Looking around, she sees Rebekah, Marcel, Freya, and Kol just came in, too.

He gives her a blanket which she wraps around herself as if her life depends on it.

Rebekah guides her outside and there she sees another car approaching. Alaric steps out of it and runs towards her.

He is saying something, everyone is, but she cannot hear them.

She’s just shaking, her mouth is still open.

All she can hear is Swan Lake and their laughs.

Wind is touching her teeth through her cut away skin of her cheek.

Alaric goes inside the barn, leaving her and Rebekah.

She feels her aunt’s body pressed against her own and feels tears on her face and feels how tight her throat is and feels the pounding in her missing finger and toe and feels and feels and feels-

She can’t feel anything.

She can’t. She can’t. _She can’t._

“Aunt Rebekah?”

“Mh?”

She wants to say something but

“It’s okay. You’re safe now,” Rebekah whispers. “Here, I have some water.” She hands her a bottle and Hope drinks. The whole bottle.

“Let’s go home, hm?”

“Home?” Hope whispers.

“Home.” Rebekah tries to smile but Hope can see the tears in her eyes. She is just holding her, holding her like she will disappear in the next five seconds. “I’m so sorry,” Rebekah whispers.

She wakes up in her bed in New Orleans. Her arm moves to her head where she touches the spot of missing hair and skin.

It takes her a moment to notice that Rebekah is lying next to her. Hope wants to snuggle into her but she sees her left hand, more precisely, her missing thumb. There’s a bandage around the wound, same goes for her foot.

But her knee is fine, she realises. Freya must have fixed it. Or her tribrid blood. Maybe both. 

She looks up at the ceiling and thinks about what would have happened if her family came five minutes later.

She thinks about peeing herself in front of them, being naked in front of them.

About her helplessness.

“You’re awake.” She hardly notices Freya’s voice or even her presence.

Freya sits down next to her and Rebekah stirs awake. The witch is holding Hope’s right hand.

“How did you fine me?” Hope asks emotionlessly.

“The bracelet Vincent gave you for your birthday, there's a tracking spell on it.”

Hope nods and presses her eyes shut, breathing deeply. She feels Freya’s healing magic flow through her body and their concerned eyes on her.

“I’m fine,” she says, looking from Rebekah to Freya.

They exchange glances as Hope is getting up. They silently follow her downstairs where everyone else is waiting.

It becomes dead quiet in the room as they spot Hope coming.

Everyone’s there. Keelin, Davina, Kol, Marcel, even Vincent and Alaric are there. They are all here and it’s way too much.

She walks – stumbles – backwards, past Freya and Rebekah, and gets out. She needs to get out. It’s all way too much.

She’s hardly out of the room when she collapses. Her hands block the fall, her missing nails burning painfully.

The world around her becomes blurry. She closes and opens her eyes repeatedly, trying to get things to normal again, but it isn’t working.

Her family’s voices, Swan Lake, her screams, their laughs, everything mixes. She’s trying to cover her ears but the sounds are not coming from the outside.

She’s screaming and panting and in pain and crying and it is all so fucking much.

Why can’t she just be dead? Why can’t it just stop?

Why?

She can’t breathe, her skin burns like when they set her on fire. Someone is holding her, saying something, but she cannot hear.

She couldn’t kill him, couldn’t kill the guy who did this to her.

Something shatters. Someone is screaming.

She looks around with wide eyes, at Rebekah who is burning alive, at Freya who tries and fails to extinguish the fire, at windows shattering, at a crack in the wall next to her, at herself-

Magic is violently assaulting everything and everyone around her. _She_ is attacking everything and everyone, she realises in horror.

Completely in shock, she does nothing, just watches as her aunt burns, as the mansion is getting destroyed.

“I’m so sorry,” she says and runs away as fast as she can, out of the house.

Transforming to a wolf, she runs through the city, to the bayou, but she isn’t free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I roughly know what's gonna happen in the next two chapters. Other than that, I have no plans for this story. Life will be my inspiration.
> 
> Also, I'm working on a s2x13 rewrite since this episode was a disgrace. I'm actually almost finished but I needed to deal with sth else first, which is why you're seeing this here.
> 
> And there is a Kai/Hope fic in the works (working title "babysitter Kai"). Although... I don't know if this will still happen. We'll see. 
> 
> Lastly, I fucking hate you


	7. Going Back Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, this chapter is set after Hope leaves the school (chapter 5) and before she is on her trip (chapter 6). 
> 
> The title is from a song. I'm Going Back Home by Tuba skinny. It's NOLA jazz 
> 
> And fuck you, it's a happy chapter. Just for you. Here, take it. You won't see her happy in a long time. 
> 
> Happy Pi Day!

_It’s been three weeks since she came back to New Orleans._

_The whole family is there. Kol, Davina, Freya, Keelin, Rebekah, and Marcel, everyone has come for her, just because she is home. _

_She told them everything, every single thing she has done. Almost killing someone, breaking Josie’s heart, having sex with so many people, manipulating and hurting people, setting her room on fire - she told them every single thing. _

_And of course, just as she expected, they aren’t mad, they are a bit disappointed, but mainly, they are empathetic and compassionate. _

_They always are._

_And fucking hell, she hates it. They are never mad, no matter what she does. In their mind, she can do nothing wrong, apparently. _ _Her mom would get mad, hell, even her dad was mad at her when he finally showed up. But her aunts and uncles are never mad. _

_Why can’t they be mad? She’s horrible, what she has done is horrible, but they let her do anything. They even defend her. _

_Everyone just forgives her. Josie did, Penelope did, and her family did, too; only Alaric hasn’t forgiven her, yet. _

_She can do what she wants and people just let her, it’s infuriating. _

_No, her family just tells her that it is her werewolf side and her Mikaelson blood. It’s not her fault, they say, but that’s bullshit. She is capable of being a good person. For fifteen years she had been a perfectly decent human being but then everything turned to shit. _

_Yes, she lost her parents. Of course, that’s another reason why everyone lets her be. She’s just a girl who lost her parents. But why, why is it acceptable for her to be a horrible person?_

_Just because she lost her parents? Because she is a Mikaelson? Because she is a tribrid? Because people are afraid of her and her family? _

_What justifies being a bad person? _

_Being abused by your father and turned into a monster against your will, like her father; does that justify being a monster?_

_Having your whole family killed because you didn’t want to be sacrificed in a ritual and afterwards being hunted for centuries, always living in fear – like Katherine; does that justify it?_

_When is it okay to be bad? _

_There are so many terrible people out there, everyone with their own story. Some just suck for no reason; others have all the reasons in the world, but is it ever okay?_

_Does it even fucking matter? _

_Why should it? _

_What even is bad? ‘There is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so.’ That’s what Shakespeare wrote and she loves Shakespeare. _

_There is no one observing and judging her and her actions, no one who decides what will happen to her._

_She’s standing in the bayou, her hands is hovering over the tree that has her mom’s name engraved. Her mom will forever be remembered as a good person, even if she has done some bad, even terrible things, and her dad as a terrible person. _

_Is it fair? She doesn’t know. Does it matter? She doesn’t know either. _

_She is supposed to be better, better than her dad, better than her family’s name. But that seems nigh impossible. _

_And why? Why should she be better? Why did they give her this expectation? _

_If they want to be better, then fucking be better. It’s unfair, putting this on her. What is she supposed to do? The Mikaelson legacy, it is all on her, but she is supposed to be better? Speak of unrealistic goals for a kid. _

_“We all miss her.” _

_Hope bows her head and turns around to look at her aunt._

_“Someday it will get better,” Rebekah says._

_“I’m not sure about that,” Hope replies._

_"I’m a thousand years old, I’m speaking from experience. Trust me, it will.”_

_“You don’t look a day older than eighteen.” _

_“You do know how to be charming, Hayley raised you well.”_

_“Not sure, that might be in our DNA.”_

_“Hm, maybe. Why do you have a backpack? Plan on leaving?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. _

_“Actually, yes, I do.”_

_“Were you gonna say goodbye?”_

_“I haven’t decided yet.”_

_“Well, where are you going?”_

_“Don’t know.”_

_“Why are you going?”_

_“I need to get out.”_

_Rebekah nods with sad but understanding eyes. _

_“Let’s go to a cafe, get some beignets. There we will talk and then you can leave, okay?”_

_“Okay,” Hope gives in. _

_They sit and eat in silence for a while. Rebekah observes her more than she eats; only sipping at her tea. _

_Hope tries not to eat since she will probably throw it up again, but she couldn’t not eat under her aunt’s attentive gaze and she couldn’t think of any good lie._

_“So, why do need to get out?”_

_“Honestly?”_

_“No I want you to lie to me,” Rebekah deadpans._

_Hope sighs and smiles. “I need to find out who I am,” she finishes the beignet and continues, “Who I am, what my places is in this world. And I can’t do that here or at the school.”_

_Her aunt nods. “Do you have everything you need? Money, clothes, books,...?”_

_“I’m good.”_

_“Are you sure you want to do this?”_

_Hope nods in response. _

_“So do you have a plan for where you’re going?”_

_“Yeah, I’m gonna meet some people.”_

_Rebekah watches her expectantly. “You’re not gonna tell me who?”_

_“No.” Hope smiles._

_“So secretive. Just like your father.”_

_“I literally told you everything I’ve done in the last few months.”_

_“We both know that’s not entirely true. You might have said what happened, but you didn’t say why or how you felt,” the original replies._

_Hope shrugs. “Not wrong.”_

_“Hey, look at me,” Rebekah says. “We will support you no matter what.”_

_“Why?” Hope simply asks, honestly curious._

_“Because that is what family does. Always and forever.”_

_“Yes, until you die. Always and forever,” she scoffs, “You, Freya, Keelin, Davina, you will all die.”_

_“That is so far in the future. Until then, you will have cousins or your own kids. I have lived a thousand years, I don’t need another thousand.”_

_“That is totally fair but then you shouldn’t indoctrinate me with some promise that you will always be there,” Hope says, looking away. She blinks a tear away and looks back at her aunt. _ _“Anyway, why are you never mad at me? I’ve done horrible things but you, all of you, are never mad.”_

_“We all know how you feel in some way. We all have been through it. Maybe not the same way as you, but I know how you feel. Thinking that you shouldn’t exist, that you are a monster, that you are cursed, I know how it feels,” she says softly. “Besides, you are like my own child.”_

_“Mom was mad. Often.”_

_“She didn’t know it feels to be a Mikaelson, did she?” Rebekah asks with a smile on her face. “And she always forgave you. We all support and forgive you, not just because you are family but because we love you.”_

_“Fuck, shut up,” Hope says, trying not to cry. _

_“Let’s make a deal.”_

_“A deal? About what?”_

_“Stay here in New Orleans for another week. I want to spend time with you and show you things. After the week you can go wherever you want and do whatever you want.”_

_Hope fakes thinking about it. “Hm, I don’t know. Do I want to spend a week with my aunt?”_

_“Charming,” Rebekah says._

_Hope grins in response. “We have a deal.”_

_“Why are my two favourite people on the planet also the most beautiful? Why are you dressed to the nines?” Marcel asks, leaning against the door frame, watching his wife and Hope._

_“He’s charming, isn’t he?” Rebekah asks with a smile, looking at Hope._

_“He certainly is.”_

_The blonde original turns to her husband and says, “I will take my niece out and show her the more adult sides of her home.”_

_“Oh, you mean you’re gonna drink until you pass out?”_

_“Did you ever see me pass out from alcohol?”_

_“No. But what about your niece?”_

_“Her niece,” Hope says, watching Marcel with raised brows, “Will be fine.”_

_“All right, forget that I said anything. Want company?”_

_“Sorry, girl night,” Rebekah answers. _

_“So only you two or Freya, Keelin, and Davina too?”_

_“She doesn’t want to share me,” Hope says as she puts and arm around her aunt’s shoulders. “Ready to go?”_

_Rebekah kisses Marcel goodbye and together with Hope, she leaves the Mikaelson compound. _

_They start at Rousseau's with their first drinks. _

_“Mom would have been mad if she had known that you were drinking with me.”_

_“You’re old enough to be drinking with your auntie Bex.”_

_“I’m sixteen,” she says loudly since it is very hard to understand each other under the music and sounds of the crowd._

_“Exactly. Cheers.”_

_“Cheers.” _

_They continue bar-hopping for hours. _

_Hope drags her aunt to dance, first in a bar, later on the streets where they are surrounded by people and music from everywhere. They dance and drink and laugh._

_“I’m not sure what I prefer, changing your diapers or this,” Rebekah says, laughing._

_“I certainly know which one I prefer. Thank you for tonight.” _

_“Oh sweetheart, tonight has just begun.” Rebekah smiles and drags her to the next bar, giggling all the way._

_Hope hadn’t had this much fun since ...she doesn’t know when. If this is what life looked like, she could definitely get used to this. Bar-hopping with her aunt is better than any drug or punching bad or everything else she ever used to feel better._

_Okay, sex is still better - if it’s with the right person. _

_But it is a close contender. _

_“Why have we never done this before?” Hope asks._

_“Don’t ask me this. You are the one who's always away in that little school.”_

_“So I should abandon my education for you?”_

_“Of course. If it means I can spend every day with you, then yes.”_

_Hope smiles; a genuine smile that spreads warmth through her whole body. _ _They settle down in one bar. It’s a little quieter there and they can talk better._

_“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Rebekah asks, pointing at a guy across the bar._

_“You are married. And stop pointing, it’s rude.”_

_“Is my baby niece berating me on my manners?”_

_“Apparently I need to.”_

_“Tsk, tsk. What do you say? Is he a good catch for you?”_

_“What, you plan on marrying me off?”_

_“No. But I want you to have as much fun as possible.”_

_“Not interested.”_

_“In him or having fun?”_

_“I am having fun. The most fun I had in ages, actually.”_

_Rebekah’s bright smile melts her heart. “Okay, no guy. What about a girl?”_

_“I don’t wanna have sex tonight.”_

_“Why not? Are you keeping something from me? Is your heart already stolen?”_

_“No.”_

_“Young love,” Rebekah muses, her smiles growing even more. _

_“I’m not in love with anyone.”_

_“What about Caroline’s daughter? Josie? She was the last person you had sex with, right?”_

_“You really want to discuss my sex life?” Hope asks with a raised eyebrow._

_Rebekah’s expression changes from a smile to a dead serious expression. “Hope Andrea Mikaelson, who do you think I am?”_

_“A hopeless romantic?” Hope offers, leaning back from the original’s intense stare._

_“A hopeless romantic!” she beams and drowns another cup of alcohol. “I want to know all the details of your love life.”_

_Hope groans and laughs. “You’re insufferable. No wonder dad kept you daggered.”_

_“Hey,” Rebekah says with pouted lips. “And you are telling me that I am rude?”_

_“At least I’m not pointing at random people.”_

_“You’ve never woken up, suddenly decades later.”_

_Hope nods absentmindedly and sips on her cup. “I hate the taste of alcohol.”_

_“I think everybody does.”_

_“That’s a big lie. How do you explain dad’s enormous consume of alcohol, then? And it’s like, the most popular drug in the entire world.”_

_“Alcohol makes you forget and it makes things easier. And you can mix it so it tastes better.”_

_Hope nods, staying silent. Eventually, she asks, “Have you ever eaten another person? Like eaten, not drink their blood.”_

_“No,” Rebekah answers after a moment of silence. “Why?”_

_“I had a ...weird dream two days ago.”_

_“About eating someone?”_

_“Not exactly.”_

_“Well?”_

_“Eating out of someone’s head.”_

_“Right...”_

_“You know, like a bowl. I was eating cereals out of the head.”_

_“With milk?”_

_“Yep.”_

_“Did it not leak? You know, out of the eyes or nose?"_

_“No, the eyes and nose were patched up.”_

_They look at each other and burst out laughing. “What the hell are we talking about?” Hope questions._

_“Hey, you were evading my questions about your love life.”_

_“Not again,” Hope says, falling back against the back._

_“Fine. What else do you want to talk about?”_

_“Nothing. Let’s dance some more.”_

_So they dance and leave the bar soon after. _

_They continue like this for another three hours. _

_Rebekah’s original vampire body makes her practically immune to the effects of alcohol but she has drunk so much that even she feels it. Hope, on the other hand, is utterly wasted. So Rebekah carries her over her shoulder through the city where people are still happily partying._

_Once they arrive at the Abattoir, she tucks her niece in. She places a bucket next to the bed in case Hope has to vomit._

_“Goodnight sweetheart.”_

_Hope mutters something but it is just gibberish._

_When Hope wakes up, her head does not hurt. Sometimes her supernatural nature does have advantages. _

_She stretches contently and gets up. After getting dressed, she goes downstairs, joining her aunts._

_“Had a fun night?” Freya asks with a smile._

_“That good?” Keelin adds after seeing Hope’s smug smile._

_“Aunt Rebekah sure knows how to party.”_

_“She definitely does,” Freya laughs. “So, what’s planned for today?”_

_“Nothing. Yet.”_

_“Great. Then it is my day.”_

_"Sorry?”_

_“Well, Rebekah said you would leave in a week so we all want to spend some time with you before you leave. So, my day.”_

_Hope shrugs and replies, “What do you have in mind for _your _day?”_

_“I’m glad you ask. Since Rebekah already partied with you, I propose we make jewellery.”_

_“We already did that.”_

_“We started,” Freya corrects. “There is always more to learn.”_

_“Okay, yeah, let’s make cool magical jewellery.”_

_“You never told us why you started this fire in your room,” Freya comments. They’ve made two rings, a necklace and two earrings. Her eyes flicker from the bowl in front of her to her niece who is avoiding her gaze. _

_She moves closer to Hope, stopping in front of her. “Hey, you don’t need to tell me, but I’m here if you-“_

_She’s interrupted by Hope raising her hand, signalling her to stop talking. With a raspy voice she says, “It was a foolish moment that won’t happen again.”_

_Lying to her family is so much harder than lying to everyone else, evident by her teary eyes._

_Freya seemingly understands, pulling Hope in for a hug. “You know, I once tried to kill myself. Actually, I did but I woke up again. The point being, I got over it and so can you. You’re a Mikaelson; you’re resilient. Nothing will keep you down.”_

_She’s brushing Hope’s short blonde hair while talking and soothes her when Hope cries a little._

_“I don’t-“ she pulls back and wipes a tear away, ”I don’t know what I was thinking. It just happened. I wanted it to happen.”_

_“Do you still want it?”_

_Her gaze drops to the ground as she says, “No.”_

_“Andrea, please be honest.” _

_“Please call me Hope.”_

_“Okay. Hope, please be honest.”_

_“I don’t want to die,” she says, picking up one of the rings they have made. They put a danger warning charm on it, as Freya calls it. The other one has a calming charm on it, and both can be used for locator spells._

_She plans on giving them to Josie and Penelope if she ever sees them again. _

_“I don’t want to live either,” Hope continues, looking back at her aunt. “And it’s okay because I’m here with all of you and I have plans for the future, things that I want to do.” She smiles a little. “Would be a shame if all I did was sit in a school and be miserable, right?”_

_“Definitely. That is what your parents would want you to do: live life and have fun. As long as we have each other, we will be fine.” _

_“Let’s make some more, shall we?”_

_After a day of making tons of jewellery and using a lot of magic, Freya and Hope go back to the Abattoir, feeling quite exhausted. They sit down on the banks in the open air area where Kol and Rebekah are already chatting and drinking._

_“How was your day?” Rebekah asks Hope with a big smile that exposes her white teeth._

_“Quite lovely.”_

_“As good as yesterday?” she questions, expectant eyes watching Hope._

_“Well... Sorry Aunt Freya but I prefer partying with Aunt Rebekah.”_

_“Just because you didn’t go out with me,” the witch replies, nudging Hope’s arm with her shoulder._

_“We can still do this.”_

_“Woah, woah whoa. Tomorrow is my day,” Kol says._

_Hope chuckles at that, amused at how they all want to spend time with her. “I’m still here. We have all the time.” _

_“Sit down,” Rebekah says, gesturing for Hope and Freya to join them._

_"Drink?” Kol asks. _

_They both nod so Kol fills two glasses and hands them over. _

_“Where are your better halves?” Freya asks after leaning back, sighing happily._

_“In the kitchen making dinner with your better half,” Rebekah replies._

_“We’re really lucky, aren’t we?” Freya says, smiling._

_“We are. I still can’t believe it myself,” Kol answers. _

_They just sit together in silence for a while. No words are needed; they just enjoy each other’s company with some alcohol and the last of the sunlight, before the sun will eventually go down. _

_Klaus’ and Elijah’s deaths brought the family closer together in a way. They value each other more since their deaths. Hope is what glues them together, without her they probably wouldn’t much see each other but their niece always manages to do the impossible. _

_Elijah would be proud of them, Rebekah thinks. They are finally a semi functional family and they have normal, happy family moments. _

_“Speaking of better halves, where is yours?” Kol asks, turning his attention to Hope._

_“Not you as well,” she says, groaning._

_He looks at his sisters who both shrug and smile. _

_“You’re quite the heart breaker, judging from what you have told us," Kol continues._

_“I guess I am.”_

_“And no one has stolen your heart?”_

_“Why are you all so interested in my love life? It’s bewildering."_

_“We can discuss magical theorems if you prefer?”_

_“Yes, sure.”_

_And that is the story of how Hope learned about the connection between mathematics and mind and offensive witchcraft. Apparently different fields of magic are connected to different sciences._

_Creating objects such as jewellery or dark objects is connected to alchemy; healing and elemental spells with biology; transformational magic with chemistry, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. _

_Rebekah eventually stopped Kol from lecturing them further when she couldn’t take it any longer. _

_Hope loves mathematics; maybe that is why she is good at offensive magic. Of course, all fields together are needed for every kind of spell, and it is magic; it’s more than just science._

_Hope is fascinated. As Kol and Rebekah bicker, she continues thinking about this. There is so much than can be done with magic and so much that is yet to be created. _

_She used to see magic as this fixed thing that gives you access to a certain range of spells that you can modify and improve upon, but now she realises how a major development in any field could advance magic. Whole new types of magic could be created. _

_It’s mind blowing._

_“Interesting, huh?” Freya asks her, breaking her out of her trance. _

_“Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.” _

_“They don’t teach this at school?”_

_Hope leans back and Freya puts an arm over her niece’s neck. _

_“If they do, I missed it.”_

_Soon Davina calls them inside for dinner. Hope spends the next two hours eating and talking with her family. _

_She doesn’t even say much, instead listening and enjoying every word that is spoken. If her whole life could be like this, she would be happy; she would be so fucking happy._

_But this is just temporary. Rebekah, Marcel, Kol, and Davina, they will all eventually go back to their lives again. And Hope herself has things to do. School is another thing to consider but it is not that important at the moment. _

_She zones out, thinking about a world where her parents and Uncle Elijah are there, too, where they are all together._

_Hell, even her grandparents and Dahlia. Even Henrik._

_Everyone is there in some parallel universe. Somewhere there is a place where they are all together as a family, even if that places is just in her head. _

_But this isn’t her reality. No, she has to live with what she has. And honestly, it could be worse. She still has a lot of family left. She should focus on this, should cherish it, in fact-_

_It’s just so hard to sit at this table without her mom around. There is warmth missing without her and it can’t be filled by anyone or anything. _

_No, she won’t be sad now. She focuses on the conversation again, and sees Freya looking worriedly at her. _

_With a tight smile and a slight nod, Hope tells her that she is okay and Freya looks away after a second._

_Eventually, they separate, Freya and Keelin leaving for some romantic night, Marcel and Rebekah go out as well, so only Kol, Davina and Hope are left._

_“So tomorrow is your day, yes?” Hope asks after they cleaned up. Kol had been complaining that they could have compelled people to do this but Davina insisted on doing it themselves. _

_“It’s going to be a wonderful day,” Kol replies, grinning. _

_“What are we going to do?”_

_“We,” he says, pulling his wife into his arms, “will go to an art gallery.”_

_“And not just any gallery,” Davina adds. “The best artists of New Orleans’ community have worked together for this gallery.” _

_“So this is like, what, a supernatural group project?”_

_“You could say that, yeah,” Kol says. _

_She spends the rest of the day painting and reading the "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" before sitting outside, watching the stars. The stars have something magnetic that always draws her to stare at them. _

_Maybe it’s her werewolf part that is drawing her to the night. Maybe it’s her desire for more or the seeming endlessness of the universe. _

_All she knows is that watching the stars makes her sad._

_Just as Kol said, they are attending an art gallery. She didn’t expect is to be such a big deal, though. Half of NOLA’s supernatural community is there, it seems. _

_There are some truly great paintings and sculptures, Hope has to admit. She’s inspired to work on her skills because of the amazing art she’s seeing. _

_The amount of people somewhat lessens her enjoyment but she still has a great time, especially because of Kol’s snarky comments. _

_They eat beignets afterwards. Only now does Hope realise that she hasn’t vomited at all since she’s with her family. What is her mind trying to say? Be happy and I won’t make you throw up? Fuck you. If only it was this simple. _

_Fuck everything. She’s eating beignets with Uncle Kol and Aunt Davina, that’s what matters._

_“What are your plans?”_

_“Hm?” _

_“Don’t you want to leave in a couple of days?” Davina asks. _

_“Oh, yeah.”_

_“So?”_

_She lets out a breath and smiles. “I made a list of people our family has hurt in some way. I plan on apologizing to every single one of them.”_

_Kol’s eyebrows rise to the sky and his mouth is slightly open. He shakes his head disbelievingly and says, “You are too good for this world. How are you Nik’s child?”_

_Davina just nods, agreeing with her husband. _

_“It’s the least I can do.”_

_“Your father would have never even dreamed of apologizing to anyone. He didn’t even apologize to us. He would be very proud.”_

_Warmth fills her, the kind that only her parents have ever been able to give her. She’s not doing this for them. No, she’s doing this for herself – because it’s the right thing to do, because she _needs_ to do it. _

_She spends the rest of the day with Kol and Davina, eventually settling down in a fancy bar where they are drinking wine and playing poker. Her uncle has never struck her as a wine person but she’s not complaining. _

_They are both so classy, everyone in her family is. They are all so stylish._

_Hope has done a lot of talking during this week, more than in the past year together, if feels like. However, it feels good talking to them, it feels right. _

_Her uncle, that cheeky bastard, is winning the poker game, to Hope's frustartion. He's just so good at lying._

_Two more days pass quietly, nothing special happening. _

_Keelin and Marcel have to wait for their Hope day as the tribrid will leave tomorrow morning. To say goodbye, Rebekah has brought back her favourite family tradition: A bonfire. _

_The original insisted on doing it all day until they all gave in. Hope had been reluctant as bonfires just remind her of her last moment with her father, but when Rebekah Mikaelson sets her mind on something, it’s very hard to get her off her idea. _

_So now they are all together, standing in a circle around the fire, each with a piece of paper in their hands. _

_Hope had been thinking a long time about her wish, not knowing what to wish for. At first she decided to wish for good weather for her trip but in the end, she wished that she’d make at least one person’s life better. _

_Yeah, yeah, how corny. It’s not like the wish matters. _

_They all throw their papers in the fire and watch it burn away, taking a few steps back and closer to each other a few moments later. _

_“Group picture!” Rebekah says excitedly, way too excitedly. Hope rolls her eyes but smiles. _

_“So, where is my niece going?” Rebekah asks after taking multiple pictures. She had insisted on taking a picture of just herself and Hope. _

_Everyone is looking at her and she has to roll her eyes again. “You really are obsessed with me, aren’t you? I will go to Mystic Falls at first.”_

_“Do you want us to drive you?” Marcel asks._

_“No, I will take the bus.” She takes a sip of her Wine. Wine has become one of her favourite things to drink. _

_“I want to thank you,” she starts, taking a look at everyone. “I had the best week in I don’t know long. Maybe ever. Thanks to all of you. Thank you for being there for me. I definitely needed this week.”_

_After a group hug with Freya and Rebekah they all go inside, spending one last evening together for the foreseeable future. _

_Sitting at the bus station, she checks if she has everything. Some clothes – she will buy new clothes on the way –, money, books, a notebook and pens, and her phone. _

_She takes her phone and checks the time; the bus will arrive in a few minutes. She thinks about calling Penelope. In fact, she already is on her contact, she just has to press on the symbol and- _

_She smashes her phone, throwing it at the ground. _

She has been running around and hiding as a wolf for two days now. Her family is searching her, she can feel it; Freya’s magic, it is calling her.

But she can’t turn back. It’s just too much. Her emotions are barley manageable as a wolf; she does not want to imagine how it will feel as a human – tribrid – again.

Eventually she goes to the lake where her mom’s body was burned and sits down at the dock. She can smell all the animals around her. The sun is burning down on her, but she doesn’t care. She thinks about her mom, about the day her childhood ended.

She can hear footsteps approaching but she does not leave, not in the mood to run anymore.

“Hey kiddo.” Marcel sits down next to her, his legs just above the water.

The others are there too, she can smell and hear them but they keep away, for now.

He places a hand on her fur, just behind her ear and says, “Let’s go home.”

She turns her head away and whimpers.

“It’s alright. No one’s mad at you,” he says and just makes it worse. But she gives in, turning back into her human self. Marcel leaves her with her clothes.

She watches over her body, her missing finger and toe, her missing nails. There are no bruises left.

After taking a last long look over the lake, she turns around and walks to her family, her head bowed. She finds herself being crushed in a hug by Rebekah.

They return home in deafening silence and sit down at the table where Hope thought that she could be happy just a few weeks ago.

“Can someone give me their phone?” Hope asks. “I want to call someone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, tell me something. Even if you hate me or this fic, tell me. 
> 
> So, I have this very cool idea. A very, very great idea for the fic. I'm still not 100% sure if I'll do it but I really want to. I love this idea but I don't think I can pull it off since it's very hard to write.  
Well, you should stop reading if all you want is Hope being happy. If you don't like how miserable she had been before, you won't like what I have planned. 
> 
> Anyway, a Kope fic is on the way. Well, it will take a very long time until anyone will see it but we're working on it. It got a little out of hand and is basically a whole season 2 rewrite since this season is garbage. So incredibly bad. So shit. So fucking bad...
> 
> To quote Kurt Cobain, "Fuck you all."  
See you in hell


	8. Something In The Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you even know how much of an in-depth look you get into my psyche in this fic? 
> 
> Let me tell you a few things before you read the last chapter:
> 
> So, uh, this version of the chapter is toned down (a lot) which, to some of you, might sound crazy once you've read it, but this was supposed to be much darker and more fucked up. But, since I am in a somewhat healthy mindset right now, I couldn't go too dark because that would require me to be fully absorbed in Hope's head. And I don't want to get back in this mindset again; I will be back there eventually, but I'll try to hold onto what I have right now.
> 
> I was never so reluctant and excited to write something. The ideas for this chapter are great, if I can say so without sounding too arrogant, but getting into them and the research connected to them, it was scary, tbh. 
> 
> About this being the end: It isn't. As long as this fandom still exists, as long as I live or as long as Hope means anything to me, I will probably continue this fic. My coping mechanism is far too reliant on writing by now for me to stop. But, as I said before, I can't get too much into this so I'll take a break from this story. When I work on it again, it will most likely be in the form of a new fic.  
You can think of chapter 1-4 as part one, and 5-8 as part two.
> 
> There is so much to get into, as you will know once you read this chapter. So much.  
I was about to say that people who haven't seen TVD or TO will have a bad time this chapter but honestly, the same was true for the last one. 
> 
> Title -> Something In The Way by Nirvana. 
> 
> Thanks to Lea12 for beta reading (cuz I guess that is what it was?).
> 
> With that being said, enjoy the last chapter for a while. There is a lot going on.

She has been running around and hiding as a wolf for two days now. Her family is searching her, she can feel it; Freya’s magic, it is calling her.

But she can’t turn back. It’s just too much. Her emotions are barley manageable as a wolf; she does not want to imagine how it will feel as a human – tribrid – again.

Eventually she goes to the lake where her mom’s body was burned and sits down at the dock. She can smell all the animals around her. The sun is burning down on her, but she doesn’t care. She thinks about her mom, about the day her childhood ended.

She can hear footsteps approaching but she does not leave, not in the mood to run anymore.

“Hey kiddo.” Marcel sits down next to her, his legs just above the water.

The others are there too, she can smell and hear them but they keep away, for now.

He places a hand on her fur, just behind her ear and says, “Let’s go home.”

She turns her head away and whimpers.

“It’s alright. No one’s mad at you,” he says and just makes it worse. But she gives in, turning back into her human self. Marcel leaves her alone with her clothes.

She watches over her body, her missing finger and toe, her missing nails. There are no bruises left.

After taking a last long look over the lake, she turns around and walks to her family, her head bowed. She finds herself being crushed in a hug by Rebekah.

They return home in deafening silence and sit down at the table where Hope thought that she could be happy just a few weeks ago.

“Can someone give me their phone?” Hope asks. “I want to call someone.”

She takes the phone and dials a number under her family’s expectant eyes. Standing up, she say, “Excuse me,” and leaves the room to talk with a little more privacy.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Hope says, a small smile forms on her face.

“Hope?”

“Penelope, what’s up?”

“Why are you calling?” the witch asks, her confusion clearly audible.

“Didn’t you tell me to call?”

“Yeah, months ago,” Penelope points out.

“I was busy.”

“Aha. What do you want?”

“I just wanted to talk to you,” Hope says softly.

“Sure. You only come to me when you need something so just spit it out,” Penelope snaps.

“Wha- no.”

“Listen, I don’t have time for this.”

“Penelope, wait.”

“I’m not here for your amusement. Call me when you understand this,” the witch says and ends the call.

Hope drops her head in her hands. “I do.”

She brings the phone back and announces that she’ll be in her room. After closing the door behind her, she drops to her knees and stays on the ground on all fours for a moment.

The urge to throw up hasn’t been this strong in ages, but she hasn’t eaten anything the past days as a wolf so she is just dry heaving.

A week passes in which Hope is mostly sitting around in her room, doing basically nothing. She vomits once during this time. But hey, she knows exactly how the ceiling in her room looks like, she knows every single detail.

She is sleeping, dreaming. Anton and Viktor are back, torturing her again. This time her family isn’t there to save her. They do everything they had wanted to do, with no one interrupting them.

She wakes up, crying.

_Bad dream?_

Her head snaps to her right, to where the voice had come from. No one is there. She could have sworn that she heard the Hollow’s voice.

Shaking her head, she stands up. She gets dressed and goes to the bathroom. Removing the bandage around her finger hurts like hell but she wants to see her cut off finger.

It’s re-growing, slowly, painfully, but it is coming back. Freya told her that it is a possibility but Hope didn’t believe her. Hope had thought her finger would be gone for good.

And for some reason she wishes it would be gone for good. Her fingernails have already re-grown, her knee is fine, and when her finger and toe are back, everything will be the same again. No signs of what happened will be left.

There is a knock on her door and she lets her aunt in by opening the door with her magic.

“How is the finger?” Rebekah asks.

“Growing,” Hope replies emotionlessly.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“How did you sleep?”

Shaking her head, she says, “Nightmares. Full of nightmares.”

Her aunt’s arms slip around her, pulling her into a hug.

“I want you to train me,” Hope says and pulls away. “Once my finger and toe are fully re-grown.”

“Sure.”

“I want everyone to train me.”

“Okay.”

Where’s the painting? It should be here, it was right here. Why isn’t it there? She searches everything, tears her whole room up.

Desperation rises in her. It can’t be gone. There is no way.

“Hope, what are you doing?” Rebekah asks her worriedly.

“Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“The painting, his painting – where is it? I need to know,” Hope says breathlessly.

“Whose painting? Hope, calm down.”

“DAD’S PAINTING! WHERE IS IT?”

“The New Orleans one that you took to the school?” Rebekah asks hesitantly.

“Yes!” Hope exclaims. “Yes,” she repeats, quieter.

Rebekah points behind her, at the wall.

Hope turns around, her eyes focused on the painting. She runs to it and takes it down, moving her hand gently and carefully over the canvas.

“I thought I lost you. You won’t leave me again,” she whispers. “You can’t.”

_‘He did leave you. I made him leave you.’ _

She whimpers, turning her head away.

“Are- are you okay?” Rebekah asks even more hesitantly. 

_‘Does she look okay to you?’ _

“Don’t listen to her!”

“Listen to whom?” The original walks closer to Hope.

“No one. I’m okay,” Hope says.

“Can I do anything for you?”

_‘I could take care of her as well, like I did with the rest of your family. Our family.’ _

“No.”

This wasn’t the first time Inadu talked to her. It started a few days ago. At first she was only sporadically there, just for a moment but she is there more and more, stays for longer period of times.

She’s training, training so much. All the time, every second, all she does is train. Train her body, train her fighting skills, train her magic.

At first she only worked on her witchcraft while her finger and toe were still growing back, but once the healing process had finished, physical training followed.

“Whoa, easy. I’m not your enemy,” Davina says after taking the brute force of Hope’s magic.

_‘You’re weak. You will never be safe if you are such a weakling,’ Inadu says._

“Sorry.”

“You have improved a lot,” Davina says.

_‘Weak.’_

“Not enough,” Hope counters.

“There is only so much you can do.” Davina is rubbing her arm, the area that took the most of the spell.

“I’m not nearly strong enough.”

_‘You never will be.’_

“Strong enough for what?”

“Strong enough to keep myself safe,” Hope says absentmindedly as she looks at Inadu.

_‘See how she looks at you? She knows how pathetic you are.’_

“I will be strong enough! Don’t you doubt me,” Hope accuses her.

“I’m not. I’m just worried about you.”

“There is nothing to be worried about!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

_‘She doesn’t mean it.’_

“Whatever, you can go,” Hope dismissed her.

“What about you?”

“I will stay,” she says.

“Should I send Freya?” Davina asks, worry apparent in her eyes.

“No, I want to be alone.”

Davina leaves.

_‘You already are alone.’_

You’re not real. You’re dead. You’re dead.

Are you?

What if- what if-

She throws up and curses her damned ancestor. Even after her seemingly permanent death, she still haunts Hope.

“Is it possible that the Hollow survived?” Hope asks Freya during dinner.

“Don’t you think we would know if she was still here?”

“What if she’s just extremely weak-“ ‘_Who are you calling weak?’ _“-but still here. Maybe the twins didn’t siphon everything. May-maybe she’s still inside me,” Hope stutters.

“What makes you think that? Did something happen?” Freya asks. 

The whispers start again and Hope flinches.

“Hope?” She sound worried.

“I’m fine,” the tribrid says.

“Are you sure? You don’t seem-“

“I’m fine!” she says; a windows shatters, making Hope flinch again. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

“It’s okay.”

“When are we gonna train?”

“All you do is train.”

“And?”

“Nothing. I’m just worried about you,” Freya says.

“What is there to worry about?” Hope asks coldly, angrily.

“Hope,” Freya sighs, “You went through something terrible and-“

“I told you, I’m fine. I’m already over it.”

_‘Isn’t it frustrating to keep up with them?’_

Hope glares at Inadu.

“Is the wall annoying you?”

“What?”

“Well, you look like you want to kill this poor wall.”

“Whatever.”

She’s lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s night already, but she can’t sleep. So she gets up and walks downstairs to the entrance. She’s about to leave but she stops.

_‘Scared?’_

She gets back to her room and sits on the floor, her hands holding her head.

_‘Do you think this will make me go away? It didn’t work the last time and it won’t work this time. Ignoring me doesn’t work. You know that.’_

“Leave me alone. Why can’t you leave me alone?”

_‘Oh honey, you will never be alone again,’ a different voice says._

“Elena?” Hope questions, confused. No, don’t talk to them. They aren’t real. They aren’t real.

_‘Katherine,’ the woman replies and makes a disgusted face, ‘Don’t insult me.’_

No, no, they aren’t real. She puts on her head phones and blasts music as loud as her ears allow her. She presses her eyes shut, trying to suppress the outside world.

Her attempts at painting are ruined by Inadu and Katherine walking in front of her and throwing paint at the canvas, so she has to start over and over again. They come and go and come and go.

They talk to each other, probably about her but she can’t hear them.

She gives up when they ruin another painting.

“Thank you very much,” she spits.

Hope doesn’t need to hear the “You’re welcome,” to know that Katherine said it.

“I heard her talking to someone last night,” Rebekah says to her sister.

“Who did she call?” Freya replies.

“I didn’t hear anyone else. Just her,” Rebekah explains.

“Do you mean she talked to herself?”

“I think so.”

“Well, I do that too. I-“

“No, I know what you mean but it wasn’t like that. It was like she was having a real conversation.”

“Maybe she spelled her phone so that no one can hear the other person except for her,” Freya ponders.

“Maybe.”

“Do you think she’s losing her mind?”

“She isn’t doing well, that much is clear,” Rebekah sighs.

“She is resilient,” Freya says, trying to comfort her sister and herself.

“Yes, she is, but this might be too much, even for her,” Rebekah replies. “I just wish I could help her but I don’t know how.

“Me too, sister. Maybe the best thing we can do is give her space,” the witch proposes. “Every time I try to talk to her she gets angry.”

“I suppose you’re right. Nik’s temper is coming through.” She smiles sadly.

“It will be fine.”

“I hope you’re right.”

They talk to her more often. Sometimes Hope answers but she tries not to. They always mock her, no matter what she does or says.

She can’t take it anymore. It’s too much. No silence, no alone time, constant abuse; she can’t think or do anything anymore.

Her family repeatedly asks her whether something is wrong but she doesn’t tell them. She doesn’t know what she is supposed to tell them. She can’t even tell what is real anymore.

One evening, when she mindlessly strolls through the city, she goes to a bar and drinks. There she meets a group of people, NOLA witches, who she drinks with for the next couple of days. 

One of the girls introduces her to heroin. Hope doesn’t do it at first; instead she just watches them getting high for a couple of days.

They explain all there is about heroin, how to take it, its effects, and things to consider.

Hope doesn’t trust them, not one bit; that is why she doesn’t use with them. From what they have told her and from what she can observe, the drug would render her pretty much useless and defenceless. She probably wouldn’t even be able to use magic anymore since that takes concentration and an at least somewhat clear mind.

She doesn’t trust anyone anymore and she always observes them, never lets them out of sight, in fear of anyone doing something to her.

She goes home with heroin, a needle and mixed feelings one day after they insisted that she’d at least try it. Heroin seems a bit extreme so she hides it in her room.

Hope trains and paints, that’s it. That is all she does. Another week where she focuses all her attention on becoming stronger passes. It’s all she can do to make sure that she never experiences this pain again.

The vomiting has increased since she started training and she doesn’t know why. She just wishes it would stop. Food is so much less enjoyable when she knows that she might see it again in a less appealing form.

She trains because she can’t experience something like what Anton and Viktor did to her ever again and she is doing everything she can to prevent herself from being vulnerable and helpless again.

For example, she, with the help of Freya, placed a spell on her Mikaelson necklace that allows her to draw magic from it and use it, even when her magic is being suppressed by an artefact or a potion. The same spell is on one of her rings.

Additionally, she carries a knife around in her boots, just in case. She isn’t taking any chances anymore. No, she learned her lesson the hard way.

One of Marcel vampires specifically trains her for street fight like scenarios in which her opponents would fight dirty. Thanks to him, she now knows how to quickly knock someone out and how to escape common attack strategies.

If she will be able to use this when it counts is a whole different story.

Davina, Kol, and Freya train with her on her magic. Vincent helps too, sometimes.

Keelin helps her with her werewolf side. Transforming is faster, her senses are sharper as a wolf now thanks to her aunt. 

Rebekah and Marcel work with her on her fighting technique. From simple punching technique to strategy in a fight, they, especially Marcel, teach her everything they deem relevant.

Lastly, she carries around one of Camille’s – Kol’s? – old dark objects. She inherited them from Camille but her uncle created them with New Orleans’ witches.

Even Inadu and Katherine help her once in a while. Inadu once explained a spell to her, one that she was having trouble with, and Katherine allowed her to gain the upper hand in one sparring session with Marcel by telling her about an obvious weak spot.

But most of her time and energy is spent on ignoring. She ignores and ignores; at least she tries to.

_‘You will only make it worse by ignoring us,’_ _Katherine tells her._

_‘Your mind is not powerful enough to banish us,’ Inadu adds._

Hope turns around and leaves her room but they just follow her. She considers going out to a bar to drink, but she hates the people there. They are all so annoying and obnoxious.

Nevertheless, the alcohol at least helps with these two bitches that won’t leave her alone.

_‘There is no running away from this. And I know all about running away,’_ _Katherine says and smiles. ‘Your daddy made sure of that.’_

Hope presses her hands over her eyes and inhales deeply.

_‘Boo!’ _Katherine is directly in front of her and laughs as Hope stumbles back, frightened by the vampire.

_‘So afraid,’ _Inadu mocks her with a smirk.

_Leave me alone,_ Hope thinks. “Leave me alone,” she repeats out loud when they just grin at her.

_‘Did you hear that?’_ _Katherine asks Inadu._

_‘No. You?’_

_‘Sounds like someone is losing their mind._

A short feeling of relief hits her when Freya calls her name from downstairs. The tribrid rushes down the stairs, eager to get away from the two women.

“Yes?” Hope says, a bit out of breath from running down.

“Who were you talking to?” Freya asks with furrowed brows.

“No one. Ready to go?”

“What do you mean?”

“Training,” Hope says as if it was obvious.

“We already had our session today,” Freya tells her. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, right,” she is shaking her head, chiding herself, “Sorry, I must have, uh-, just forget it.”

“Hey,” Freya says softly, “What’s going on? Please tell me. We can help you.”

“Nothing is going on with me!” Hope exclaims loudly.

_‘Obviously,’ Katherine deadpans. _

Hope closes her eyes in frustration.

“Hope, I’m not blind. I can see-“

“What can you see?” Hope interrupts her. “Hm? Come on, tell me.”

“It’s okay, just sit down and-“

“Nothing is okay! It’s not fucking okay,” a fire starts around her and she curses, “Fucking magic, fucking life.” She screams in frustration and her aunt drops to her knees, holding her hands over her neck.

“Hope, I can’t breathe,” Freya chokes out.

Hope regains her composure, allowing Freya to breathe again.

_‘You’re very bad at magic, aren’t you?’ Katherine asks, feeling quite bored._

_‘And you have my blood,’ Inadu sighs, sounding disappointed._

“SHUT UP! SHUT! UP!” Hope screams.

Freya flinches and says, “I didn’t-“ She stops when Hope runs to her room. The door loudly slams shut, making Freya sigh.

The witch drops down on a chair and rubs her temples as she mindlessly stares ahead. She has absolutely no idea what to do anymore.

Hope is going through her stuff, desperately searching and trying to remember where she put the fucking heroin.

“Where have you put it? No – don’t answer!”

She throws up again.

Inadu and Katherine watch on as Hope makes a mess of her room.

“Of course,” she mutters to herself and gets up from her knees. She jumps on her bed and removes her father’s painting and carefully puts it down on the mattress.

Behind the painting is a safe that can only be opened with her magic. Her father sure loved hiding things behind his paintings.

After opening it, she hesitates. Heroin – is that really a good idea? The effects seem to be exactly what she wants if her idiot drinking-buddies are to be believed. Of course, she googled it to verify their information and she observed them; she just isn’t stupid enough to trust some strangers.

On the other hand, she is thinking about taking the heroin of some strangers.

_‘Will you decide already?’ _

“I completely understand why my father hunted you for five hundred years,” Hope grumbles. “I would do the same, just to spare the world of your annoying voice and face.”

Inadu snickers at that, to which Katherine responds with a glare.

“Don’t you fucking laugh. You have been a ghost for over a thousand years. Your existence is miserable. Was miserable,” Hope corrects herself.

Fuck it, even if the heroin is from strangers, she will take it. It won’t kill her, or maybe it will. Doesn’t matter, as long as she gets rid of Katherine and Inadu, she will do it.

She brings the painting back to the wall and sits down on her bed.

While ignoring the voices, she prepares everything. The needle hits a vein in her left arm and she injects the heroin.

_‘Oh Hope.’_

Hope’s eyes snap to the new voice. “Camille?” she asks. She knows her father’s former therapist by pictures and stories her mom told her and she is pretty sure that Camille is standing in front of her. She also wrote Klaus’ memoires that Hope has read multiple times.

Her father’s therapist smiles kindly at her but vanishes after a few seconds when the heroin takes its effect, together with the other two women.

She slowly leans back as her eyes roll back, her head is resting on her pillows and her stare is fixed on the ceiling.

A euphoric feeling overcomes her and she thanks whoever is listening for freeing her of the hallucinations.

It’s like she is floating. Enchanted, euphoric, in love, she doesn’t know how to better describe it.

Soon, she is very tired. Her breathing and heartbeat slow down immensely and a warm feeling overcomes her. Her mouth is dry and her skin warm. It’s like all her worries just vanished, irrelevant to the bliss she is experiencing right now.

She rolls over to the side, remembering the warning of sleeping on her back since she could choke to death.

Her mouth is open, she- she loves life.

She’s in heaven, she thinks. Her arms and legs feel so heavy. She just lies in her bed and loves existing. Life has never been better.

At some point she falls asleep, the needle and the drug in bed next to her.

She wakes up from the best sleep she has ever had when her phone rings.

“Mh?” she answers sleepily. Her face drops back on the pillow since it feels very heavy.

“Did I wake you?” an amused voice asks.

“Josie?” Hope asks as she tries to stay awake.

“Hi. How are you? I called you three times in the last four hours. You must have been really tired, huh?”

“I’m great. How are you?” she mumbles.

“I’m great too,” Josie says and Hope can practically hear her smile. “I thought you would visit us at some time,” she adds.

“I wanted to but, uh,” she drifts off, losing her train of thought. “What was I saying?”

“You wanted to visit but?”

“Oh, yeah. Stuff happened.”

“Stuff happened?”

“Mhm,” Hope mumbles.

“Should I call you later?”

“Why?”

“Because, uh, you seem like you are not in the right mind to talk,” Josie says.

“Okay,” Hope hums.

“See you later, then.”

“Sure,” Hope says and grins.

The phone drops to the floor and she stays on the bed. She has never felt this good and the best thing is that the hallucinations are gone. They are gone, away; she is free.

“Hope?” Rebekah calls and knocks on her door. “You didn’t come to your training. Is everything okay?” The original is still standing outside, waiting to be invited in.

“I’m tired. I don’t wanna train today,” Hope replies slowly.

“Did something happen?”

“No,” Hope lies.

“Hope?”

“Yes?”

“Forget it. Call me if you change your mind.”

The only effect of the heroin that Hope is slightly worried about is that the drugs makes people vomit and she does that enough already. Luckily she has a bucket under her bed and she needs it right now.

She drifts off again after cleaning her mouth and pushing the bucket back under her bed.

The drug has worn off when she wakes up the next time. She stretches and sits up.

After throwing the needle away and hiding the rest of the heroin behind the painting again, she takes her phone. Did Josie call her or did she dream that? She isn’t sure so she checks it on her phone.

She calls her back once she is sure that it actually happened.

“Hi,” Josie says.

“Hey.”

“Uhm, can I call you back?” Josie asks and adds, “I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Sure.”

“Nice. Thank you.”

Hope ends the call and yawns.

_‘Well, that was pathetic,’ Katherine comments._

No, no, no. Not again.

_‘Thought we were gone?’ _

_‘You will never be alone,’ Inadu says._

_‘Leave her alone,’ Cami says._

_‘Who are you?” Katherine asks._

“She is my father’s therapist- was my father’s therapist,” Hope answers, annoyed.

_‘How are you?” Camille asks softly._

_‘Oh god,’ Katherine says and rolls her eyes._

“What do you want from me?” Hope asks and points at Katherine. “I understand the Hollow-“

_‘I have a name,’ the Hollow cuts in._

“-I’m not sure about Camille, but she makes more sense than you. Why are you here? Why am I seeing you of all people?”

_‘How would I know? I don’t want to be here with you. It’s not particularly fun watching you.’_

_‘Maybe this is your mind trying to come to terms with the things your family has done,’ Camille theorises._

“Then why is the Hollow here?”

_‘My name is Inadu.’_

_‘She represents the trauma in your life.’_

The door to her room opens and Marcel walks in.

“Hey-“

“Not now!” Hope doesn’t even look at him as she flicks her wrist, throwing him out of her room and sealing her door shut.

“What about you?”

_‘I’m your mind’s attempt to regain control. Or I’m here to show you what happens to the people your family loves. You decide.’_

_‘Why am I not surprised that Klaus’ daughter has a broken mind?’ Katherine asks and rolls her eyes._

“Lovely. This is all oh so lovely,” Hope says and looks around. “I’m talking to myself. Totally normal. I’m not losing my mind. Not at all.” She sighs and rubs her eyes.

_‘Perhaps a little bit,’ Camille says._

_‘Do I really have to spend all eternity watching this waste of my bloodline?’_

Hope hits Inadu with a pain infliction spell but feels the pain herself.

“Ow.” She rubs her head. That hurt.

_‘You will hurt yourself if you hurt us,’ Cami explains. ‘We aren’t real, Hope.’_

“Really? Who would have thought?”

Hope walks out of her room and calls for her aunt. They train while Hope’s hallucinations sit on the steps of the compound. She can hear them bicker and comment rude things, with Camille scolding them when they do.

But Hope tries to focus on her aunt and the sparring session since this needs all her attention.

She showers after the session, but even under the shower, they follow her. Cami, at least, has the decency to wait outside, but Katherine and Inadu just stand with her in the shower and watch her naked body.

“Really? Some privacy would be nice,” she says, flabbergasted and annoyed.

_‘We hear your thoughts all the time,’ Katherine replies in a bored tone. ‘There is no privacy left.’_

“Fuck off.”

They don’t move so she showers with the two watching her.

Later that day, when she tries to sleep, Inadu and Katherine don’t shut up. They gossip over some stupid shit while Camille tries to stop them, but they ignore the blonde therapist.

“I don’t remember you as being this superficial and social,” Hope says to the Hollow and rubs her eyes.

_‘There is nothing else to do,’ Inadu replies and shrugs. ’Call it boredom.’_

“You could shut up,” Hope offers.

_‘Why would I do that?’ the former ghost and witch asks, as if this is completely incomprehensible._

“I don’t know. Oh wait, maybe because I want to sleep.”

_‘That’s your problem. Anyway, where were we?’_

Hope groans and puts her headphones on. It’s all in her head, they are not real. She just has to ignore them, she tells herself.

Hope takes heroin again a couple of days later. Inadu and Katherine are constantly talking and she needs a break. Besides, the drug has been calling her all the while. It has been hard to resist its call.

_‘This is a bad idea, Hope,’ Cami says as Hope prepares._

“I don’t care,” she shakes her head, “As long as I get rid of these two, I don’t care.”

_‘There are better ways,’ Camille tries, but Hope won’t listen to her._

“Like what?” she asks, sounding disinterested.

Camille remains silent for a moment. Then, she says softly, _‘There are people who can help you. Your family can help you.’_

“It’s too late for that,” Hope says and injects the needle before her not therapist can say more.

It’s not as good as the first time, but she still feels like she is in heaven. She lies back down and simply enjoys, enjoys living.

There is no music, there are no voices, and it is completely silent. Perfect, it’s perfect. Life is great.

Two days later, the Mikaelson family sits together for breakfast.

“I want to go to Mystic Falls,” Hope says.

“Back to the school?” Rebekah asks.

“Yes,” Hope answers and nods. “But I only want to visit.”

“We can drive you,” Marcel offers.

“You don’t-“

“Oh no, I won’t let you go alone,” Rebekah says in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

_‘Because you’re weak,’ Inadu whispers._

“Okay.”

“When do you want to leave?” Marcel inquires. “Today?”

“Uh, yeah, today if this is possible.”

“Sure.” He smiles warmly.

“How long do you want to stay there?” Rebekah asks.

“I don’t know.” Hope shrugs. “A couple of days.”

“All right. Pack what you need and we can go,” Marcel concludes.

There has been an urge inside her for the last few days. It always comes up when she listens to music. Swan Lake – she wants to listen to it again. But she can’t. She won’t. If she does, she will be chained up again. She will be tortured again. Probably, maybe. It’s a risk she is not willing to take.

Nevertheless, the urge to listen to the ballet is sometimes overwhelmingly strong.

She is packing her backpack with clothes for a few days, a notebook plus pens, and a book – her usual setup.

Her eyes hover over the painting over her bed. If the urge to listen to Swan Lake is strong, then the heroin is a siren song.

She is thinking about it every day, wants to relive this feeling, but she isn’t particularly keen on becoming an addict. She will be gone for multiple days, though, and she went out of her way to get new heroin after the last time. This time she had to pay for it. First time was for free but even Hope Mikaelson has to pay, apparently.

And she did just use yesterday for the third time; there is a risk of withdrawal signs showing already when she is away at the school. So, maybe, she should bring some, just in case. Bringing it with her doesn’t mean she will take it. Right?

“Are you ready?” Marcel shouts from downstairs.

Looking from her door, over to Katherine, who is watching her fingernails, and Inadu, who looks like she is dying of boredom, Hope quickly walks to her bed.

Camille stands in front of her, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

_‘Bad idea, Hope,’ the blonde says again._

Hope ignores her, opens the safe, and grabs a needle and the heroin. She stuffs it in her backpack and joins Rebekah and Marcel outside.

“You okay?” Marcel asks her.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The drive from New Orleans to Mystic Falls is never too pleasant. No fifteen hour drive is pleasant. But it is enjoyable enough with her aunt and uncle/half brother.

Less enjoyable is hearing Katherine complain every few minutes. Sometimes she complains because of something Rebekah said, sometimes because she just wants to annoy Hope. Annoying the tribrid seems like her favourite way to kill time.

Hope strictly ignores her, and Katherine and Inadu’s chats. She never thought that the Hollow could be this annoying, but she is surprised time and time again.

Previously the Hollow was annoying because of the million voices Hope heard when she was possessed. But now, hearing one of the most powerful witches in history, the person who destroyed her family, gossip, Hope’s annoyance level reaches a whole new level.

For most of the time in the car, Hope just reads and draws some sketches.

They stay at a hotel for the night and continue the next day.

Looking back, Hope can’t remember much of the day on which they arrive at the school. It’s blurry, more or less. The beginning is still okay, but the more the day advanced, the worse her memory becomes.

Rebekah calls Alaric around an hour before they arrive, telling him that they would visit for a few days.

Hope, annoyingly and a little worryingly, already feels the first withdrawal symptoms. Her nose is running like crazy or it would be if she hadn’t used a spell to hide that. A running nose would be a big tell and no one needs to know about her new love. 

Her legs ache and she is restless. The restlessness might come from the long drive. All she knows is that she wants to move and do something. She can’t relax and read in peace anymore.

But most of all, she craves for more. Her whole body is yelling at her for another hit.

Thankfully, they will arrive soon.

Once they do, Hope quickly gets out and walks and shakes her legs, trying to ease the pain. Pain is such a weird feeling for her, she never really experiences it; at least not for extended period of times. Even when she hadn't activated her werewolf side yet, pain was quickly gone thanks to her blood. 

Alaric comes to greet them. He looks better than she remembers, more relaxed.

“Hi,” Hope says and smiles at him.

“Hey. How are you?” he answers.

“I’m great.”

Alaric sees Rebekah’s face and it’s telling a different story but he doesn’t comment on it.

“That’s good,” he smiles back and asks, “Is there a reason why you’re visiting?”

“No. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Okay. Let’s go inside,” he says and takes the lead. Hope, Rebekah, and Marcel follow him.

_‘He seems nice,’ Camille says._

Hope agrees but she can’t say it out loud.

_‘Didn’t he kill your father this one time?’ Katherine asks._

_‘I killed him,’ Inadu corrects._

_‘That’s why I said 'this one time',’ Katherine replies. ‘And since when is there a school where Damon and Stefan live?’_

Hope ignores them as they walk inside. Alaric leads them to his office, in which they sit down to talk. The headmaster offers them two empty rooms to stay in. Rebekah, at first, declines the offer, but she changes her mind after Hope’s insistence to stay at the school.

So the Mikaelsons take their bags to the empty rooms. After that, Hope walks through the school, alone.

Most students are still in class so it’s very quiet. It’s a nostalgic feeling, standing in this place again. This place is filled with terrible memories, but also a few good ones. For example, she is watching the place where she kissed Josie for the second time. Although... this memory is not a good one, it was the night she broke the siphoner’s heart.

She sits down outside and mindlessly draws. Nothing major, just some sketches of the school grounds. It’s just a way to kill time until Josie and Penelope come out.

What should she even tell them? She hasn’t thought about that and feels stupid for it. Fifteen hour drive and she hasn’t thought about it – so stupid. Sighing, she looks ahead.

_‘Just tell them that you missed them,’ Camille advises with her pleasantly warm voice. _

_Katherine rolls her eyes._

She looks back down at her notebook and realises that she has drawn Camille and Katherine.

“For fuck’s sake, can’t you leave me alone for five minutes?”

_‘You know how to get rid of us,’ Katherine replies._

_‘Hope, no,’ Camille says in a commanding tone._

_‘Why do you care?’ Inadu asks Cami._

“Enough!” Hope orders. “Shut up.”

Inadu looks ready to argue but Hope walks away.

_‘Rude,’ Katherine says._

Heroin would be really great right now; it would be really fucking great.

Penelope and Josie walk out, hand in hand, seemingly lost in their own little world. Hope can’t help but grin at the sight. So much for just friends. It does hurt a little, seeing that they have someone.

She is still outside. They probably don’t know that she is here. Alaric didn’t have the time to tell them unless he pulled them out of class.

_‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Katherine asks. ‘Don’t tell me you’re scared.’_

Hope waits and just observes for now. Angling her face to the side, she watches as Penelope and Josie start to make out.

“It'd be weird if I’d go to them now. Right?” Hope asks Camille for advice.

_‘Let them be,’ Camille agrees._

_‘Are you okay with that?’ Katherine questions. ‘I thought you are in love with one of them.’_

“And? They deserve to be happy,” Hope answers and sees a boy looking at her as if she lost her mind. “What are you looking at?” she asks and he walks away.

_‘You are pathetic,’ Katherine says and shakes her head. With a smile, she adds, ‘I have to say, I never took you for an anxious person.’_

_‘Do something or I will,’ Inadu threatens. _

“No, stop.”

The Hollow looks at her, waiting for Hope to do something but she doesn’t, so Inadu makes her way to the couple.

“Wait!” Hope runs after her. However, Inadu is too fast. Standing in front of Penelope and Josie, she rants about their audacity to kiss in public. They don’t seem to mind, though.

“Shut up,” Hope says through gritted teeth, trying to remain as quiet as possible.

Inadu turns around and smirks. Hope realises that she has been played by her ancestor when Penelope looks at her.

“Hope?” she asks, surprised.

“Hey.” She waves at them.

“Since when are you here?” Josie asks, sounding just as disbelievingly.

“Since today.”

Josie eyebrows furrow. “Are you back?” she asks.

“No. I’m just visiting you two.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, sit down,” Penelope says.

Hope obliges, sitting down next to the two witches.

“So, you two, huh?” the tribrid starts.

“Yeah,” Penelope says.

“Since when?”

“Three weeks.”

“Cool.”

“We would have told you,” Josie adds.

“Oh god, no,” Hope chuckles, “I’m good. I was rooting for you, remember?”

_‘Pathetic,’ Inadu whispers. _

_‘That’s nice of you,’ Cami says._

They sit in uncomfortable silence. Or rather Penelope and Josie do, Hope doesn’t experience the pleasure of silence. She never does, not without the help of a certain drug.

“So... why are you back?” Penelope asks.

“Josie said something about visiting you. Here I am.”

“What have you been up to in the last months?” the witch questions.

“Not much,” Hope lies. “You?”

“Ah, you know, a lot of school work,” Josie answers for both of them.

“Sure.”

_‘Ask them how they are,’ Camille advises._

“How are you?” Hope asks.

“Great,” Josie beams.

Penelope shrugs, seemingly agreeing with Josie.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hope says and she means it.

“Don’t tell me you care,” Penelope says and Katherine laughs.

_‘I like her.’_

“I do care.”

“Since when?” Her tone makes it clear that she doesn’t believe Hope’s words. It’s only fair, Hope thinks. After all the times she lied and hurt her, it is only understandable that she is reluctant to believe her.

“Penelope,” Josie chides.

“What? That was her whole thing, not caring,” Penelope defends.

“No, you’re right. But I do care about you. About both of you.”

“Not enough to call,” Penelope counters.

_‘Teenage problems,’ Inadu says and rolls her eyes. _

_‘Horrible, isn’t it?’ Katherine agrees._

“You’re one to talk with your Salvatore love triangles,” Hope snaps at the ex-vampire, cure, and devil.

“What?” Both Josie and Penelope ask, making Hope realize that she just talked to her hallucination. Great.

“Nothing,” she says, trying to sound convincing.

“Are you sure?” Josie says.

“Yes. Uh, why didn’t I call? I threw my phone away. Smashed it, actually,”

She isn’t sure if it is the lack of heroin, the voices, or Penelope and Josie that irritate her so much, but it’s horrible, no matter the cause.

“Why?” Penelope inquires.

“Reasons,” she replies and stretches her leg in an effort to lessen the pain.

“Oh come on.”

“I didn’t want to be distracted,” Hope explains absentmindedly.

“Aha.”

Hope is fidgeting; the call of the heroin is becoming stronger.

Yawning, she says, “Excuse me for a moment.” Without waiting for a reply, she gets up and runs inside.

Locking herself in the bathroom in her assigned room –not her old one –, she injects a needle into her left arm. Another perk of having vampire blood, there are no signs on her arm that would indicate what she is doing.

It’s just a small dose that she takes, just enough to get rid of the hallucinations and for the withdrawal symptoms to disappear.

Better, she feels so much better. She goes back to where she left Josie and Penelope.

“Sorry for that,” she says and sits down.

“Are you okay?” Josie asks with the usual worry in her voice.

“Yeah,” Hope shrugs her concerns off. “So what happened to just friends?” she questions.

Penelope shrugs and says, “I don’t know, it just happened.”

“That’s cool, yeah.”

“What about you? Any new conquests?”

“Something like that,” she laughs and laughs, thinking about Anton and Viktor.

Penelope and Josie look at each other, irritated.

“My family interrupted us,” she breaks out in laughter again, “They interrupted us before anything could happen,” she finished and wipes a tear away.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Josie asks.

“Do I look like I’m not okay?”

“Yes,” both girls say in unison.

The grin fades from Hope’s face when she says, “What would you know about that?”

“Hope,” Josie sighs.

“More than you think,” Penelope answers.

From here on, her memory becomes more and more blurry. There are certain moments she can recall, but there are missing parts.

Hope isn’t exactly sure how the rest of the day went or how she ended up with Penelope in the witch’s room. She remembers Penelope lecturing her and being mad but she just can’t recall why.

“You have people who give a damn about you,” Penelope says angrily. “Hope, you grew up loved and protected. Everyone always loves you. God, you are so lucky and you don’t even know it.” She shakes her head. “There are so many people who don’t know how it feels to be loved and you purposefully reject it. What’s wrong with you?”

_‘She is just a scared little girl, don’t mind her,’ Katherine says, sounding just as bored as usual._

“You have no idea why I am the way I am or what happened to me,” Hope accuses, “so please spare me your indignation.”

“Oh what? You lost your parents. I’m sorry. I really am, but that doesn’t justify you being you. At least your parents loved and cared about you,” Penelope says, her voice sad.

_‘Ouch,’ Katherine says. _Hope can hear her smile and see Camille’s sad eyes.

“Yeah? And what would justify it? Hm?” Hope asks.

_‘Isn’t she cute when she is angry?’_

“I don’t know!” Penelope says angrily.

“Then what do you want from me?”

“I want you to stop being such an asshole,” Penelope answers, tears forming in her eyes.

Hope isn’t sure what happened in between the two conversations with Penelope or if they talked more.

“Who are you talking to?” Penelope asks.

“My hallucinations,” Hope answers, dismissing the witch with a wave of her hand. 

“What?” She sounds worried. “Uh, should I get your aunt or Alaric?” Penelope gets up.

“Sit down.” Hope forces her down with magic. “I might get mad if you leave and I can’t control myself when I’m emotional.”

_‘You’re scaring your little friend,’ Inadu says._

“Am I scaring you?”

“A bit, yes,” the witch admits.

“There is nothing to be scared about. Hey, stop laughing!” she shouts, staring at Katherine.

“I’m gonna get your aunt!” Penelope says.

“No!”

“What’s happening to me?” Hope cries.

_‘Your mind is fractured,’ Camille says. ‘Your last trauma, it was too much for you and now your mind is splitting.’_

“I can’t live like this- I don’t wanna live like this anymore,” she says, barely able to speak anymore because of the tears. This isn’t the first time she has said these words and again, the Hollow is involved.

Cami puts her arms around her and soothes her.

_‘Don’t blame your weakness on me,’ Inadu says._

“This is all your fault. I wouldn’t be here if you never entered my life.” She is sobbing.

Katherine and Inadu look down on her, their face show their disdain for the girl. Camille tries to shield her from their hateful gazes.

“My mom, my dad, my uncle, they would all be here if it wasn’t for you.”

_‘You’re talking to yourself, remember?’ Inadu counters._

Hope closes her eyes and focuses on Camille’s arms around her.

She remembers Anton and Viktor, she remembers how her skin itched and how scared Penelope looked. She remembers, oh fuck, she remembers her.

Hope is running, running away, to be more specific.

Rebekah and Marcel just checked on her and, when they left, two men visited her.

“No,” Hope says and stumbles back.

_“We’re here to finish what we started,” Anton says but he isn’t looking at Hope._

She follows his gaze and can’t believe her eyes. Sitting on her bed is herself, her seven-year-old self.

Anton and Viktor slowly advance towards the little girl who doesn’t seem to notice the two men, as she is absorbed in her drawing.

“No!” Hope says again and grabs little Hope’s hand. She sends the two men crashing against a wall with a spell and runs.

Constantly checking if they are behind her, Hope goes as fast as she can with the little girl.

_‘You’re hurting me,’ the girl says._

“Listen, you have to be strong right now. All right?”

She doesn’t wait for a reply, just keeps going. Stopping in front of her old room, she opens the door after checking if they are anywhere near.

She kneels and looks at her younger self. “Don’t be scared. I will protect you.”

_‘I’m not scared, I’m a Mikaelson witch,’ the girl replies. _

Hope massages her own head in an effort to lessen the pain. It hurts, her head hurts – a lot.

She hears footsteps outside. Panicking, she grabs young Hope, opens her closet and says, “Hide here. They can’t find us here.” Hope is cowering in her empty closet, her arms around the little girl.

The closet opens, revealing Anton. Hope extends her arm, pushing the vampire away to make room for their escape.

She takes young Hope’s hand and runs out of the room. Going downstairs, she leads them to the kitchen. A boundary spell is set up around the kitchen with a wave of her hand.

“They can’t hurt us now,” she says and turns to young Hope. “What are you doing?”

Young Hope has a knife in her hand and points it towards Hope.

_‘You’re scaring me,’ seven-year-old Hope says, her voice shaking and oh so innocent._

“Wait – Put it down. I am you.” Hope is trying to appear as non-threatening as she can.

_‘No you’re not. I will never be like you.’_

“But- but I am you. I am you.” She repeats the words to herself. She loses her balance and drops to the ground. “I am you,” she whispers, blinking at her blurry-looking hands.

_‘My mommy would never allow me to play with someone like you. Where is she? And where is daddy? He protects me from the monsters.’_

Hope can’t do anything but stare at her younger self, in complete desperation. God, her head hurts. She is on all fours on the kitchen floor, panting.

It’s just so blurry.

Suddenly, she notices that she has a knife in her hand. A voice in her head – Inadu’s voice – is telling her to do it.

Anton and Viktor stand outside the kitchen, in front of the barrier and smile at her.

Katherine is sitting on a table, holding Camille’s mouth, shutting her up.

Hope frantically searches her younger self, but can’t find her.

Rebekah and Marcel are outside, yelling Hope’s name and punching the barrier.

“What’s going on?” Alaric asks, as he runs to them.

“Hope. I’m not sure. Get a witch to break the boundary.”

He quickly gets Josie, who is accompanied by Penelope.

Rebekah, Marcel, Alaric, Josie, and Penelope are outside.

“You’re a siphoner, aren’t you? Start siphoning!” Rebekah orders.

Josie starts siphoning while Hope holds her head, knife still in one hand.

Everyone is talking at the same time, Hope can’t think. They are so loud. So loud. And it hurts.

_‘You know how to make it stop,’ Inadu whispers_ in her ear.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” she screams again and again.

Tears are flowing over her face but it doesn’t become quieter. It’s the opposite. Everyone talks even louder.

“SIPHON THIS DAMN BOUNDARY!” Rebekah yells.

Hope is shaking and crying. She can’t take it anymore. She tried for so long but she isn’t strong enough for this. The voices stop after an explosion. Her magic destroys the whole kitchen and knocks her family and friends a few feet back.

It’s silent.

Her younger self is standing in front of her.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

She is interrupted by young Hope.

_‘I hate you,’ she says coldly. _

“Josie!” Alaric yells.

_‘I wish you were dead.’_

Hope raises the hand with the knife in it.

“It’s done!” the siphoner exclaims.

_‘Do it!’_

Hope cuts her throat with the knife; her eyes never leave her seven-year-old self.

“NO!” Rebekah catches the falling girl and holds her in her arms. Blood is dripping on her and Hope’s clothes.

Marcel, Alaric, Josie, and Penelope stand around her as she feeds Hope her blood.

“Heal her!” she says to the two witches. They immediately get on their knees and start casting healing spells.

Hope is still looking in the blue eyes of her younger self. The little girl is watching her with disapproving eyes and turns away.

_‘What a mess you’ve made,’ Katherine says, smiling cruelly. ‘What would daddy say now?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate asking for it, but comment, pls. I'm so interested in what you think about the ideas in this chapter. I mean, come on.
> 
> There are open plot threats, e.g. the Delena blood. I haven't forgotten them (even if you have).


	9. Bird Set Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, has it really been 4 months already? Damn. 
> 
> Before you read chapter 9, I wanna mention that I edited and rewrote (and apparently ruined) the first four chapters so you could read them before reading this chapter. Your choice. 
> 
> Question: Do I need to give trigger warnings at this point? After everything? Like, if you read the tags, if you read everything that has come before, do you really need more warnings? Eh, tw for referenced self-harm, drug abuse, withdrawal, and probably more. 
> 
> I’m sad, bois. Really fucking sad. 
> 
> Title -> Bird Set Free by Sia

Strange things have been happening in Kol’s dreams. He wasn’t too affected when his brothers died. Yes, he mourned them (a little), and he misses them (not really), but they lived for a long, long time and they both decided to end it on their own. Well, the Hollow forced that decision, but still. Kol will not miss Klaus’ daggering antics and it is not like Kol was close to Elijah. 

Because of this, it is unsettling him that he has been dreaming about Elijah for a while now. Night after night, his older brother visits him and ruins his dreams.

All Kol wants is too spend all his time with his gorgeous wife, living the good life he finally has after all these years.

_‘I will come back and haunt you if you don’t look after Hope. There won’t be a single pleasant day for the rest of your immortal life with your “gorgeous wife”.’_

He is dead. Elijah is dead, probably sitting in the afterlife and looking after Klaus like he always did.

Still –

Feeling like an idiot, Kol grabs his phone and calls his favourite niece.

“What the fuck happened?”

Hope slowly opens her eyes and blinks a few times, waiting for her surrounding to stop being blurry. Sitting in front of her, in her old room at the school, are all too familiar faces: Katherine, Inadu, and Camille.

“Go away,” Hope murmurs, turning in the opposite direction. Just a bit more beautiful, dreamless sleep...

_‘If only we could,’ Katherine mopes. ‘If only we could…’_

Hearing someone outside, she turns her head to the door, waiting for whoever it is to come in. The door opens, but it takes a moment until the person – Penelope, it turns out – is finally walking in.

The witch, at first, seems happy to see Hope awake, but her gaze hardens immediately, resentfulness and bitterness coming through. Hope can’t help but admire Penelope for the fact that she still hasn’t given up on her yet.

“You’re awake,” Penelope comments wryly, stepping further inside and sitting down on a chair next to Hope.

_‘Duh.’_

“What’s up?” Something is wrong.

Penelope takes a long time before she answers, taking a sip of coffee – if Hope’s nose isn’t deceiving her – and looking at the tribrid. “You bastard,” Penelope says bitterly. “You freaking bastard.”

The room is quiet, Penelope glaring and Hope turning away.

_‘Say something,’ Camille says and sits down on Hope’s left, taking her hand and smiling._

_‘Boooring,” Katherine says, holding two fingers at her head as if they were a gun and pulls the trigger. _

“Your hallucinations are back, huh?” Penelope asks. Now that she knows about them, it’s obvious. It’s not hard to know what Hope is looking at.

Hope’s eyes dart back to the witch, in shock. “I told you about them?”

Her question is confirmed by a hollow laugh. “You sure did. Scared the shit out me.”

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

Hope sits up and moves her hands through her hair. “I remember bits and pieces, but nothing clear.” Coming to school, Penelope and Josie being in a relationship, withdrawal symptoms…

“So you don’t remember,” Penelope pauses, her eyes searching for honesty in Hope’s. Then, quietly, “You don’t remember trying to kill yourself?” she asks.

Suddenly Hope’s hands dart to her neck, feeling over the skin where a wound should be. Nothing is there.

“Did I- did I die?”

“Nope,” Penelope scoffs. “The cut wasn’t very deep, and we managed to close it in time. Or maybe your healing powers are more ridiculous than we knew. But trust me, it was close.”

Hope heaves a sigh and closes her eyes.

“Why?” Penelope snaps.

“Why what?” Hope answers, genuinely unsure.

“Why would you try to kill yourself?”

_‘Because she’s stupid,’ Katherine says. _

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I don’t remember what happened... last night?”

“Two nights ago. We kept you sleeping with a spell. You can’t tell me that you just decided to kill yourself without knowing why.”

“Just leave it.” Two nights? Oh no. That explains a lot.

“Fine. Then what about the heroin?”

Hope groans. Fuck. Today is going to be rough, Hope thinks.

“Yes, we’ve found it. You should have seen your aunt’s face. I’ve never seen someone this disappointed. And that means a lot coming from me.”

Hope might be crying if Inadu and Katherine weren’t there. “Where is she?”

“Your aunt? I don’t know, probably walking around somewhere and scaring students. Fuck, Hope, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Like what? Hey, Aunt Rebekah, I’m seeing The Hollow and Katherine and Camille, and by the way, I’m using drugs to get rid of them.”

“Better than saying nothing. You almost killed yourself and we had no idea what was going on. Suddenly you snapped and talked to someone and threatened me after saying some really hurtful things about me and Josie.”

“I’m sorry,” Hope says, looking away. “What did I say?”

“Nothing I want to repeat.”

It must have been really bad if Penelope refuses to tell her. Hope moves her hand over her face, rubbing her eyes. She’d like to scream.

_‘I don’t know if it’s pathetic or cute how they won’t give up on you. No one ever cared this much about me,’ Katherine comments._

Pushing the blanket from her body, Hope moves to the side of the bed, her legs hanging down. “I’m gonna-”

_‘Die? Please?’_

“-take a shower.”

Penelope stays in her chair.

“You don’t need to wait.”

“I won’t leave you alone. Who knows what you might do?”

Without replying, Hope goes to her bathroom. She could have told Penelope that she’s never alone, no matter how much she wishes she would be. But what would that accomplish? It’s remarkable enough that Penelope is even here.

Under the running water, Hope looks over her body, focusing on her thumb and toe. The memories of being tortured come so easily but she can’t recall what happened two nights ago. What the hell did she say to Penelope?

_‘Your friends deserve a break from you. Really, it’s exhausting putting up with you. Be a good girl and send them away,’ Katherine says._

_‘No, anyone who is stupid enough to be her friend deserves to suffer,’ Inadu says._

Why didn’t they keep her sleeping until after the withdrawal symptoms would disappear? Two nights, they couldn’t have timed it worse. Now, waking up likes this, she is at the peak of the symptoms.

Her heart is pumping like crazy, for no other reason than already being used to heroin. Cramps, sweating (which is disgusting while showering), tremors – mainly in her hands, and an insatiable craving to get high are the most notable symptoms at the moment, and yet, Hope doesn’t move an inch – just staring ahead and feeling the water dripping down her skin.

She won’t last long like this.

The door to her room is being opened. Hope tries to ignore Katherine and Inadu in favour of listening to Marcel.

“Is she awake?”

“Yeah. Taking a shower.”

“What did she say?”

“Not much. Apparently, she can’t remember what happened.”

_‘Now is it the time to get help, Hope,’ Camille says._

“I don’t know how,” Hope replies. “What is gonna fix this? What is gonna fix me?”

She ignores the fact that Marcel can hear her talking. They know so she doesn’t have to hide it anymore.

“Is she talking to them?” Hope hears Penelope ask.

“Yeah,” Marcel says. “You don’t need to be here. You’ve done enough for her already.”

Hope can’t hear a reply, but she doesn’t hear the witch leaving either.

“How did you not know what was going on with her?” Penelope asks in an accusatory tone.

“We knew she was struggling. Anyone would after what happened to her, but we didn’t know what exactly was happening. And she just wouldn’t talk to us.”

“Did something happen when she was away?”

Marcel keeps quiet for a moment. Hope imagines him watching Penelope while considering what to tell her.

Quietly, Marcel says, “I suppose I can tell you. She was kidnapped and tortured by her father’s enemies. She hasn’t been the same since.”

_‘Always making up excuses for you.’_

“Oh. I didn’t- I wasn’t aware of that,” Penelope just about whispers.

Hope finishes showering and gets dressed again. Stopping in front of the mirror, she sighs. Her life has become so much more complicated by everyone knowing. There won’t be any normal conversations between them anymore. Sometimes it’s easier for people to not know.

When she looks in the mirror, she sees her seven-year-old self standing behind her. A memory of cold blue eyes flashes through Hope’s mind.

“I’m sorry,” she says to the little girl. Hope’s voice sounds hollow. Her younger self vanishes before her eyes, not giving her an answer.

Hope is incredibly tired, and that tiredness only amplifies once she gets out of the bathroom.

Penelope immediately looks away when their eyes meet, and Marcel stands up. He gives his niece/half-sister a hug, stroking her hair.

“Hey.”

Hope can’t get herself to answer. Marcel seems to be at a loss for words, only looking at her with a pained expression. They stand in silence, no one knowing what to say. She knows that he must feel the tremors and muscle spasms that rip through her from time to time.

“No funny remarks now?” Hope says to Penelope.

“I’m sorry,” Penelope says, unable to look into Hope’s eyes.

Hope waves her hand dismissively. “That wasn’t funny, Penelope. Try harder.”

_‘Hope,’ Camille sighs. _

_‘Look at her face,’ Katherine laughs. ‘She’s so concerned about you.’_

“Do you have to comment _everything_?”

_‘Yes.’_

“You are incredibly annoying.”

_‘Have you met yourself?’ Inadu asks._

“Who are you talking to?” Marcel asks, sounding worried.

“Katherine and Inadu. Camille says hi. I’ll go now.”

“Where?”

And that is why she wishes they wouldn’t have found out. She can’t do anything anymore without them thinking that she will commit suicide or get high or whatever else. They will never see her in the same light again. Every time she talks to them, every time they see her, somewhere in the back of their mind they will think that she will do something “stupid”.

“I don’t know. Just out.”

Before she can make good on her words, the door opens, Rebekah coming in. Her eyes well up with tears as she hugs Hope. 

“What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember it. Can you let me go, please?”

_‘Tell your aunt she’s a bitch,’ Katherine says. _

_‘Tell her I will get my hands on her too,’ Inadu adds. _

“You’re dead,” Hope replies wryly. “You won’t be killing anyone anymore.”

_‘Except you.’_

“Camille says hi,” Hope says to Rebekah. “And Katherine is a bitch.”

_‘Hey! Who’re you calling bitch, bitch?’_

“You’re seeing Katherine and Camille?”

“And the Hollow.”

“How? They’re dead.”

“Oh no, I’m not seeing the real them. It’s just in my head. Or maybe they’re really her. Fuck me if I knew.”

_‘Great, now she feels better.’_

“Shut up,” Hope sighs.

“I didn’t -”

“I was talking to Katherine.”

“Let’s get you something to eat. You must be starving.”

If there is one thing that Hope doesn’t want, it’s eating, as she is feeling incredibly nauseous. Thinking about food alone is enough to push the urge to throw up near breaking point.

Nevertheless, they find themselves in the cafeteria. Rebekah and Marcel sit around Hope. Katherine, Inadu, and Camille are standing opposite to the tribrid.

Hope’s hands keep shaking and her body, especially her legs, ache so much. Pointedly ignoring all the food around her, Hope tries her hardest to not look like she’s going through hell, like she’s not feeling that she’s about to die.

It can’t look very convincing, Hope supposes, when she is sweating like she just finished a marathon. The tremors and spasms don’t help, either.

It’s very quiet in the empty room. No one really talks except Hope’s hallucinations. If at least her personality just split, then she wouldn’t have to deal with them. Seeing and hearing them every second of every day is just cruel. 

“Have you taken my heroin?” Hope forces herself to speak. This can’t go on; she cannot live like this for one more second.

“Yes,” Rebekah answers.

“Can I have it back?”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to see Katherine’s face anymore.”

_‘Bitch!’_

“Is that why you’re using heroin?”

“Uh-huh,” Hope hums affirmatively. How can they just talk to her like nothing is happening? All they have to do is take one look at the tribrid and they would know that sitting there isn’t doing any good to Hope.

“It makes them go away. And-” a muscle spasm violently ripping through her is taking her attention away, “it would really help to get rid of the withdrawal symptoms that are becoming really painful.” Hope looks at her aunt, nose tripping, sweat covered, pleading eyes, hoping that they won’t force her to endure this any longer.

“I didn’t know werewolves or vampires experience withdrawal symptoms.”

“I have seen it with some of my guys,” Marcel says.

“It’s basically a chemical imbalance in my brain. Vampire blood doesn’t help. Vampires couldn’t get depressed if that were the case,” Hope explains hurriedly. “So, please, can I get it back? Please.”

_‘Smartass.’_

They look unsure.

“I can’t take withdrawal and the hallucinations right now,” Hope says matter-of-factly. “I won’t be able to detox in my current state.” She is shaking her head urgently. 

“You’re just afraid,” Rebekah says softly.

“Please. I can’t. Google it if you don’t believe me. Fuck! Look at me!” she shouts. “I can’t! How can you not see that? I need it.”

_‘You are such a weakling,’ Inadu says. _

Biting her lower lip, Rebekah looks at her husband.

“All right,” Marcel sighs. “But just enough for the withdrawal symptoms to disappear. You will slowly reduce the dose and you will get clean. Deal?”

“No.” Hope shakes her head.

_‘I didn’t think you had it in you to defy your family.’ Katherine is applauding her. _

“Why?”

Hope is holding her shaking arms over her stomach, in pain. “Heroin is the only reason I made it this long. I won’t live without it. I can’t.”

“Hope.”

“No! I can’t! You don’t know how it is to constantly hear them!” She gulps, trying to swallow the breakdown that she feels coming. “It’s either heroin or death,” she says calmly. “I won’t be able to live like this.”

_‘You are such a drama queen.’_

_‘Don’t say that,’ Camille says._

They look at her with the same expression, the same pity and sadness and worry.

“Please, Aunt Rebekah.”

_‘Please, please, Auntie Bex, please help me,’ Katherine mocks._

_‘Please no diarrhoea,’ Katherine says. ‘Don’t force me to watch her shit her brains out. I’m begging you.’_

“Shut up! I don’t have diarrhoea, bitch.”

_‘Really? Because everything coming out of your mouth sounds like shit.’_

Detoxing is the most horrific sensation Hope has experienced in her life. Never has she been in so much pain, in such a sorry state than what she is now. Excruciating pain is bouncing through her legs, her heart won’t slow down, she feels sick. Hope has never had a cold before, but she imagines it must feel similar to what she’s currently feeling. On the other hand, she can’t imagine people going through this time and time again, this is way to horrible. 

No, there is no way a cold is this bad, Hope reckons. 

Hope is in her room, waiting for Rebekah to give her the heroin back, feeling legitimately like she’s about to die if her aunt doesn’t hurry up. The withdrawal symptoms are getting worse and worse, leaving her in a sorry state that is easy for Katherine and Inadu to make fun of.

Her thoughts seem to annoy the Petrova doppelganger.

_‘God, stop being so overdramatic. You’re in pain, we get it, stop whining,’ Katherine snaps. ‘__Why does the universe hate me this much?’ The brunette is lying on the floor, head supported by her hands, looking at the ceiling. ‘What have I done to deserve watching _her_ every day? I know I did many bad things but why do I have to be here? And I didn’t want to be a bad person, her father just forced me to do what I had to. Someone, help me, please!’_

Hope huffs a laugh. “What the fuck is wrong with my subconscious? The only thing missing is you three having sex. Fuck, Aunt Rebekah, where are you?”

As if losing control over her mind wasn’t bad enough, now she also has to live with next to no control over her muscles anymore.

All she can do is lie in her sweat, endure the pain in her legs and the cramps in her abdomen, ignore the drug cravings, and try not to finish what she started two nights ago. She might not remember why she did it then, but she sure knows why she would do it now.

Would she still feel like this if she turned into a full tribrid?

_‘Yes, Hope, you would,’ Camille reminds her, sitting down next to Hope, holding her hands. ‘You said it yourself, vampire blood doesn’t fix the chemical imbalance in your brain.’_

“It’s worth a try,” Hope says pleadingly, willing to do absolutely anything to be free of this pain. She can’t do anything. Just wait for her aunt to finally show up and somehow occupying her thoughts until that happens.

As ridiculous as she feels thinking it, her hallucinations are her last safe spot right now, her last sanctuary that holds her together, preventing her from losing herself in the pain of the withdrawal symptoms. 

Camille is holding Hope in her arms, pushing the tribrid’s hair out of her sweat-covered face.

_‘You’ll get through this,’ Camille says soothingly. She is still holding Hope’s shaking hands._

“You don’t have to do this, you know. Only because you had a thing for my –”

_‘Hope, I am you. Don’t forget that. Do not forget that I am just a part of your mind.’_

_‘Brilliant idea,’ Katherine speaks suddenly, looking at Inadu. ‘I’m gorgeous, you’re, well, decent-looking, I guess. Sex would be a great way to kill time.’_

“Please don’t,” Hope urges, pulling her legs in to lie in a sort of foetal position and pressing her arms against her stomach as cramps leave Hope with a pain distorted face. Fuck heroin, fuck the assholes in New Orleans, who introduced her to the drug, fuck Katherine and Inadu, who made her take it, fuck the whole world. She just wants to get high again, wants to feel like she can fly again, wants life to be enjoyable again – is that so much to ask for? 

_‘Don’t even think about it,’ Inadu tells Katherine, offended by the ex-vampire._

“Thank – you,” Hope breathes. This is and probably will be the only time in her life that Hope feels grateful to the Hollow. Cami’s sorrowful eyes are watching Hope with the upmost sympathy, but other than moral support, there is nothing she can do to help.

_‘Hush. Who allowed you to talk?’_

“I don’t need permission to talk to my hallucinations, asshole,” Hope grunts. No one told her how horrible withdrawal would be, no one prepared her for this. 

_‘I’m the most powerful being to ever walk on this planet, not _your hallucination_.’ Inadu says the end like it’s the worst insult she has ever heard._

“Most powerful my ass. You’re dead, bitch. And just in my head.”

_‘And yet I still have more power than you ever will.’_

“Power, power, power... You are – a little obsessed, don’t – mh,” Hope grunts in pain, “don’t you think?”

_‘And you’re a little insane,’ Katherine says, bored again now that the excitement of having something other to do than watching Hope being gone. She’s playing with Hope’s blanket. _

Hope focuses on Camille, trying to give her a smile. “What are what are you thinking about?”

_‘Taking over your body and getting revenge on your wretched family,’ Inadu says._

_‘Going back to hell. It was much more pleasant over there than it is with you,’ Katherine says._

“I was talking to Camille.”

_‘We know.’_

Hope’s phone rings before Camille had the chance to talk.

“Hey, Uncle Kol.”

“How’s my favourite niece doing?”

“I’m-”

_‘Insane.’_

_‘Terrible.’_

_‘In desperate need of help.’_

“-fine,” Hope says, glaring at each woman.

“Are you sure?” Kol asks. “You don’t sound fine.”

“I’ve been – better, but nothing I – won’t survive,” she lies. If Rebekah doesn’t bloody hurry up, she might just die. It sure as hell feels like it. “Actually-” there is no point in lying. Rebekah will tell him anyway, so... “I’m not doing well.”

“Talk to me.”

Talking rapidly, Hope says, “Apparently, I tried to kill myself and I’m hallucinating dead people and I’m addicted to heroin, going through withdrawal right now because Aunt Rebekah is taking ages to get my fucking heroin and I’m losing my mind and-”

“Hope, Hope,” Kol laughs. “Come on, quit the jokes, tell me.”

“I was being serious,” Hope says calmly.

“You- Don’t joke about this, Hope.”

“I’m not. Ask Rebekah.”

“Should we come over? Do you need us?”

“No. It’s -” Hope bends to the side, away from the bed, and throws up, “FUCK! – fine.”

Inadu and Katherine both fall in a fit of laughter at this statement.

Hope punches her legs in a vain attempt to lessen the pain. “I hate you two so much. Bye, Uncle Kol.”

“Wait-”

Hope ends the call.

“I’m gonna die,” Hope says to Camille, to herself, “I’m gonna die.”

“Not yet, sweetheart.” Rebekah finally comes in, holding the most precious gift Hope has ever laid eyes upon.

The original is too stunned at the state of Hope to say anything for a moment.

“Are you sure you want this?” Rebekah says finally. “We just -”

“Shut up. Please.”

“Hope,” Rebekah gasps, shocked.

“Sorry. Just- just give me the heroin.”

Hesitating, Rebekah looks at Hope, at the absolute desperation in her niece’s eyes. “Hope, sweetheart, you almost made it through the worst part. Heroin withdrawal symptoms only last for about ten days and the worst is over after the third day. You only have to hold on for one more day.”

_‘Listen to your aunt,’ Camille says. _

“And then what? An eternity with these three?” Hope points at each of the women. “No, I don’t wanna spend another day where I don’t have to possibility to get rid of them. If you love me, you’ll respect my choice.”

_‘Hope!’ Camille says disappointedly. _

_‘Wow.’ Katherine is at a rare loss of words._

Hope hates herself for resigning to this tactic, to go this far, but she will not live another minute like this.

“You know I love you.”

“Then prove it.”

Rebekah hands Hope the heroin and just watches as the youngest Mikaelson injects a needle into her left arm. She watches on as her niece slowly looks like the child she knows again.

“Oh, Nik,” Rebekah mutters to herself, “what do you want me to do?”

“Hey.”

After a couple of days, still at the school, Hope is sitting at the lake in the woods in a rare moment of solitude.

Josie walks up to her, sitting down next to the tribrid.

“Hey,” the siphon repeats.

Hope, ignoring Josie’s presence for a while, looks straight ahead, savouring this short moment of peace. The sun, the wind, the view, she takes it all in, ignoring all her thoughts and worries for a second. The world is beautiful, humans are horrible, living is hell – and Hope is never alone. 

After taking a deep breath, Hope says, “Have you ever noticed how irrelevant we all are in the grand scheme of things?”

“Are you high?”

“Just enough to be alone.”

“How long has this been going on for?”

“Too long.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell anyone.”

“What do you want, Josie?”

“Just checking on you.”

“Why? Afraid that I’ll kill myself?” Hope asks soberly.

“Don’t say that.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“How did you get to heroin?”

“New Orleans is a bad place.”

“Do you have to avoid every question?”

“I love you.”

“…What?”

“I’m in a clear mind right now so I wanted to say it. I wanted you to know. I know you’re with Penelope now and all and I don’t expect you to say anything or do anything.”

“Hope,” Josie says hesitantly, “that sounds like a goodbye.”

“It is. I won’t be in your life anymore. I will go back home and let you live,” Hope says, never looking at Josie, only fixated on the lake. “Have you?”

“Have I – what?”

“Noticed how irrelevant we are?”

“Not really?”

“When I’m high, when I’m alone, in peace, I wonder about this. In the end, who really cares? There are over seven billion people on this planet. Who cares what we do? Only a handful of people give a crap. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” Hope quickly glances at Josie to see if the siphoner is still following her.

“What are you talking about, then, Hope?”

“Imagine this: Some bomb or superweapon, right? Boom – Humans and supernaturals gone. Who cares? We are so caught up in our own little world, in drama, in everything. The universe doesn’t care, does it? The earth will keep turning, with or without us. We are irrelevant creatures who can’t accept our own insignificance.”

“OK and? We only have one life, all this matters only in our heads. So what? That doesn’t mean our lives are irrelevant. The universe will keep moving, sure, but you are alive. Right now, we are alive and our feelings matter. Irrelevance at some distant point in the future is nice and well but we are living in the now. At this very moment, we aren’t insignificant, at least to some people.”

“You have such an optimistic view on life. I envy you.”

They sit in silence for a while, looking over the still water, at the trees and the bright, blue sky.

“They will soon be back,” Hope says.

“Your hallucinations?”

Hope nods.

“So, what is the long-term plan? Forever addicted to heroin?”

“I don’t know. Heroin won’t work forever. Every time you use it your body gets used to it a little more and needs a little more the next time to have the same effect. So, eventually, I will see them even while high unless I increase the dosage to ridiculous amount, which would kill me.”

“Then you have to do something about it.”

Of course, if she were to activate her vampire side, she could prolong the usage of heroin for a long time. Becoming an immortal being, however, is not on her current list of things to do. In fact, she has counter measures planned, not interest in activating her vampire side whatsoever.

“Yeah.”

“Can I do anything to help?” Josie asks, so genuine and sweet.

“All you can do is stay away and not get hurt by me.” Josie takes this as her cue to leave, but Hope stops her. “Josie, you never told me what you wanted to say when I left.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“When I left the school, I predicted your last words and you were like, ‘I didn’t wanna say this. I guess you’ll have to come back to know what I wanted to say.’”

“Oh,” Josie says sheepishly. “No, you were right with what you said, I just didn’t want to admit it. Sorry.”

“Huh. OK,” Hope says disappointedly.

“I think she should stay here,” Rebekah says. She is on the phone with her sister, who hasn’t stopped worrying since Rebekah told her everything that has happened in their short stay at the Salavatore School.

“You think it is best to separate her from her family?”

“She has friends here. And a regulated life, which will hopefully allow her to stabilize, mentally speaking.”

“I don’t think –”

“It’s better than her staring at her ceiling in her room!” Rebekah declares with an aggressive edge to her voice. “I spoke to an old acquaintance and while she is not a psychiatrist, she does know supernatural teens and their needs better than most, and she agrees with me that Hope needs a regulated life. Stability, friends – this place can give her this better than we can in New Orleans.”

“Are you certain? What does Hope think?”

“She doesn’t know yet. Freya, you basically raised her. Now it’s my turn to look after her. Trust me.”

“No, absolutely not. I wanna go back home!” Hope says testily.

“You need structure, sweetheart. Lying in your bed in New Orleans isn’t good for you.”

“You do remember how miserable I was here?” Hope asks sarcastically. “At least I have all of you in New Orleans.”

“Yes, I remember, and that is why we we’ll change things. For starters, Marcel and I will be staying with you. And we will talk to Alaric to make sure that you won’t have the same workload as before. I believe this to be the best choice for you, Hope. A stable daily routine, friends, a regulated life, and we will be here with you. It will be good for you. And yes, Marcel and I will provide you with heroin, if that is what you are really worried about. If it turns out to be a bad decision on my part, New Orleans is only one drive away.”

“Do I have a choice?” Hope asks, forcing a calm voice.

“No, Hope, not right now, not about this. I’m sorry.”

Hope storms out.

The next day, an angry Hope is walking into the cafeteria. She can’t recall a moment when she had been angrier at her family than right now. So, she is just supposed to go back to the shitty life she had here? In her current mental state? And then they take her choice away from her.

Her bubble of angry thoughts bursts when she sits down at her usual table, when she sees someone sitting there.

“Hello?” Hope says to the girl. Is she a new student? Why is she sitting at Hope’s place? No one does that.

The girl’s long, light blue hair is partly hidden under a beanie. She has a round face with full lips and big brown eyes, although the white part of her eyes is bloodshot. Hope only vaguely sees the girl’s bracelets that cover her wrist, as the blue-haired girl acknowledges her with a confused expression.

“You’re real. Right?” Hope says.

“Define real and I’ll give you an answer,” the girl replies. Her voice is warm, cheery and cigarette-like raspy.

“You’re not just in my head, you’re really here, other people can see you?”

“I fairly sure they can. Why? Who else lives in your head?”

“Too many people.”

The girl laughs at that. “All the voices up there can twist reality in a nasty way, huh?”

“Who are you?” Hope asks. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you new here?” She must be, Hope would have noticed the blue hair.

“I could ask you the same. My name is Love,” the girls says with an eye roll. “Yeah, make fun of it if you must.”

Hope smiles in response. “I know how you feel. I’m Hope.”

“Oh no,” Love says empathically, “our parents hated us.”

Shaking her head, Hope replies, “I was my family’s hope for a better future. So, here I am, Hope Mikaelson.”

“My parents saw me as the representation of their love,” Love says, rolling her eyes again. She puts a cigarette between her lips, looking at Hope. “They regret this name now, of course. They’re divorced,” she whispers good-naturedly, “because of me. Thought I was the devil’s spawn or something.”

“Nope, I’m the devil’s spawn, everyone says it. My parents aren’t divorced. Well, they’re dead. Died to save me.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Love says and lights the cigarette with a flame coming from her finger.

“It is what it is.”

“I killed my best friend,” Love shrugs. A few students are glaring at Love for smoking indoors, which she responds to with raising her middle fingers at everyone who looks at her. Josie also receives a middle finger. “No one’s gonna die here because I smoke,” she mutters, annoyed.

“What? Why? Why did you tell me?”

“Accident. Didn’t know I was a witch and he…well-”

“You don’t have to talk about this. I mean, we’ve just met.”

“And already shared some of the worst things to happen to us. I told you because you told me about your dead parents.”

“I told- whatever. You’re new here, right?”

“Been here for two months?” she guesses. “Not long. You?”

“I used to go here since I was little, but I took a, uhm, a break for some time. I just came back.”

“You’re staying now?”

“Yeah,” Hope says bitterly. “Hey, are you high?”

“Wow, finally someone notices,” Love chuckles. “I don’t know how anyone manages to stay at this place without being high.”

“God, yes,” Hope agrees.

“What about you?”

“You wanna know if I’m high?”

“Mhm,” Love hums, eyes closed, as she takes a last drag of her cigarette.

“Heroin.”

Love’s eyes snap open, brown watching blue. “You are on heroin right now?”

Hope nods and adds a shrug.

“Damn. Not bad. On heroin in school,” she chuckles.

“To be fair, I need it to function. And, technically, I’m not attending this school as of this moment.”

“Uh-huh.” Love smiles cheekily. “I gotta go. Nice to meet you, Hope.”

Hope watches the blue-haired girl stand up and sees scars and fresh cuts that are not even remotely hidden by the short black skirt - which is distinctly not part of the school uniform - Love’s wearing. By the confidence with which Love walks, she might not care that everyone can see the cuts on her legs.

Maybe she’s just too high to care.

After Rebekah talked to Dr Saltzman, Hope could choose which subjects she’d like to pursue. Still angry with her aunt, Hope didn’t give the choice much thought, just opting for the classes normal witches have, but without duelling class.

Come next week, Hope will be a normal student at the Salvatore Boarding School for the Young and Gifted again. At least she won’t have to attend all the werewolf and vampire classes anymore.

“Come on, give it a chance,” Marcel tells her. Now that she is permanently staying here, he will provide her with her much needed drug. “We only have your best interest at heart.”

“You’d let me make my own decisions if that were the case.”

Marcel lets out a deep, long sigh. “Hope, you gotta understand that we can’t trust you and your judgment right now. I mean, you hid your hallucinations and heroin usage from us. For weeks. We love you but we may have left you with too much free room and were too soft on you.”

“Great,” Hope says, eyes focused on the needle in her vein. “I assume you love living in Mystic Falls, huh? At a school. I bet New Orleans is nothing compared to this.”

“You can be angry all you want,” Marcel says calmly. “We are here for you, always and forever.”

“OK,” Hope says in a tone that makes it clear that it is absolutely not OK for her. “What is the long-term plan, then? We all know I can’t be forever on heroin.”

Marcel gives her a pleased smile, as if he is happy that she has come to this conclusion herself, then he turns sombre. “To be honest, we don’t know yet. The goal, for now, is to keep you alive.”

“Tell me, what are you gonna do all day now? Don’t tell me you’ll be a teacher.”

“Besides figuring out how to help you… I don’t know yet. You said you see Camille, right? Camille O’Connell, your father’s therapist?”

“Yeah. The Camille who wrote Dad’s memoires. When is Freya bringing my painting stuff?” Hope asks. She hasn’t painted in a while and misses it. Her canvases and paint at the school were destroyed back when she burnt half her room to ash.

“I believe Kol will bring it next weekend. Any idea why Camille and the Hollow?”

“And Katherine. Did you know her?”

“Only the stories.”

“I don’t know why I see them of all people. I mean, there were so many possibilities. Like, Henry, for one. My parents, my grandparents and so many more. Why them? I don’t know. I do not know.”

“Take a guess,” Marcel says.

Hope smacks her lips and says, “I mean, Cami had a theory that they all represent different, well, issues, is the best word, I guess. Inadu is my trauma, Katherine what happens to people who get involved with my family, Camille what happens to people we love, or she is an attempt at regaining control. She wasn’t sure.” 

Marcel’s eyes glint with something like excitement, like he just solved a complex problem. “Why don’t we start there?”

Hope looks at him, puzzled.

“If Camille is your attempt at regaining control, then use that, talk to her.”

“You… what? Let me get this straight, you want me to – to talk to my hallucinations and do what, exactly?”

“I’m no expert, obviously, but if you are hallucinating a therapist, maybe talk to her. Honestly, what harm is it going to do if you talk to her?”

“I have to listen to Inadu and Katherine, is the harm.”

“It’s just a suggestion,” Marcel says.

_‘Idiotic.’_

_‘I-’_

_‘Dumb.’_

_‘Hey!’_

_‘Moron-’_

_‘We are trying to have a conversation!” Camille exclaims._

_‘Stuuuuupid,’ Katherine answers. _

_‘You think this will help.’ Inadu laughs at Hope. ‘Foolish girl.’_

Hope is sitting at her desk, head resting on her palm. Marcel’s plan is working wonderfully, really. Talking to Camille, what a _brilliant_ idea.

_‘Have I ever told you the story how your daddy slaughtered my family because I refused to let myself be sacrificed? Lovely day, I gotta say.’ _

_‘Or what about the time I killed your uncle?’ Inadu says excitedly. _

_‘And there was this time, let’s says, mh, five hundred years, plus minus a few, in which your daddy hunted me across the whole world.’ _

“He didn’t hunt you, per se, did he? He just made you believe he was after you while doing other things. You wouldn’t have survived for five hundred years if he were seriously hunting you.”

_‘Yes, of course, my bad. He didn’t hunt me, he just let me believe I could die at any second, never letting me have a moment of peace.’_

_Camille is once again interrupted. _

_‘What about the time you threw up a snake?’ Inadu says. _

“What about it?”

_‘Nothing, I just wanted to remind you.’_

“Thanks.”

_‘You’re welcome.’_

_‘Did you know that your father almost sacrificed Caroline Forbes in a ritual?’ Katherine says in a bored tone._

“Yes, I’m aware. What’s your point?”

_‘Don’t you think it is strange that he almost killed her, only for her to become the love of his life later. No offense,’ Katherine says to Camille. “And now you are in love with Caroline’s daughter. You two are step-sisters, in a way.’_

_Inadu chuckles while Katherine studies Hope’s face, which is not resting on her hand anymore. _

“I’d say it is very debatable as to who earns the title of love of Klaus Mikaelson’s life.”

_‘No, it’s definitely you,’ Camille says confidently, finally getting a word in. ‘If there is one thing that is one hundred percent certain in this world, it’s that you are the love of his life, Hope.’ _

_‘Eh, love.’ Inadu looks disgusted._

_‘Ohhh, you had this kind of relationship with your daddy?’ Katherine laughs._

Ignoring the comments, Hope continues, “And, I mean, you’re right, I guess. It is strange. Josie and I could be sisters, sure, but we aren’t, so, you know, what’s your point?”

_‘And I thought my life was strange. You top everything.”_

“Duh. I’m talking to hallucinations.”

_‘Yeah. And why?’ Katherine asks. _

_‘Because she is weak and pathetic,’ Inadu says._

“Because I listened to my family?” Hope offers uncertainly.

_‘No, what I meant was, why do you see us in the first place?”_

“Because I was tortured and almost raped.”

_‘Tell me, why did that happen?’_

Was Marcel right? Are they helping her? Hope isn’t sure.

“They wanted revenge.”

_‘Yes,’ Katherine drawls, eyes glinting maliciously. ‘The short answer, my _littlest wolf_, is that your daddy was a horrible person and the world is better off without him. And you,’ she spits, ‘you deserve everything you got.’_

“Fuck you.”

_‘Hands in your panties, girl. C’mon, fuck yourself, I’ll gladly watch. Nothing better to do anyway.’_

“I heard you were staying. Is that true?” Josie says, finding Hope sitting outside, drawing sketches in her notebook.

“Yes.”

“So… you changed your mind?”

“Nope.”

“Can you answer with more than one word?”

“Sure.”

Josie sighs and stops herself from rolling her eyes. “Then why are you staying?”

“My aunt decided it would be best for me to stay here,” Hope says, her voice conveying what she thinks about this plan.

“And you don’t agree?”

“No,” Hope scoffs.

“Why not?” Josie asks.

Hope finally looks up from her notebook, up to Josie’s eyes. “What happened last time I was here? I hurt everyone, made your life miserable, felt like shit. At least in New Orleans I only hurt myself.”

“Wow,” Josie says, sounding impressed. “Wow. Get over it.”

Surprise takes over Hope’s face.

“You hurt people. Jeez, we get it. Hey, just an idea, how about you stop being an asshole? How about you stop crying over everyone’s feelings and focus on being nicer? Be a better person if hurting people is such a big deal for you. It’s really not that hard. God, don’t you get tired of yourself?”

“OK.” Hope nods. She is impressed and also shocked by Josie’s fierceness.

“You are not your father, you are capable of being a decent person,” Josie goes on impatiently.

“OK.”

“Like, ugh, you are so frustrating!”

“Josie.”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Oh. OK. Uh, yeah.”

“I’ll try.”

“Yeah. Good.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.”

A bit confused, Josie leaves.

On Monday morning, before classes, Love is once again sitting at Hope’s place, alone and smoking again.

“This is my place, you know?”

Love, dressed all in black, looks up at Hope, who is sitting down opposite to her. “Really?”

“Yep. Well, it used to be. I guess I gotta share now.”

“So, what, is this the table for the fucked-up people here?” Love asks, smiling.

“I suppose it is.”

“Mh. Cool.”

“Did these piercings hurt?” Hope says, pointing at the piercings in Love’s nose and ears. Hope has been a little obsessed with pain lately, ever since the withdrawal.

“I don’t know. I was,” she makes a hissing sound, “higher than…” Love stops, eyes fixed on a boy near them, “higher than this guy’s pants. Holy fuck.” Love shrugs, a cheery expression taking over her face.

Hope laughs and says, “You have a drug problem, don’t you?”

“Oh, massive one,” Love smiles happily.

“Yeah, same.”

“Mhhh, yeah. What you gotta do to endure this school, am I right?”

“You don’t like it here?”

“Oh, I love it,” Love deadpans. “It’s just amazing when your parents just sent you away without hesitation, away from your home, your friends, isn’t it? But who cares? Get me high and all is forgotten, all is good,” she says cheerily.

“Heroin is great if forgetting is your goal.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“No. No,” Hope chuckles. “You don’t wanna get addicted to heroin, trust me. For a few moments it is the best feeling in the world, like, you are flying, in-love, but then reality comes back and hits you twice as hard. And withdrawal is horrible.” Hope shudders at the memory.

“Noted.” Love lightens up another cigarette and after exhaling a cloud of smoke, she says, “You know, what is it with these people here? Half of them are immortal, the others also have super healing. As if they are gonna die of lung cancer because I smoke. Or is there some loophole and vampires can get lung cancer? That’d be really stupid though. Mh, I don’t know.”

“Witches don’t have super healing.”

Love rolls her eyes. “They know healing spells, don’t they? Like, one person smoking is the biggest threat in a school where half the students wanna eat you? Get your priorities straight.”

“I don’t think they care about dying. They probably think it’s rude that you smoke indoors,” Hope says. “Or maybe it’s about the smell.”

“Mh. Maybe. So,” Love eyes her, scanning every visible part of Hope, “what are you? Witch? Werewolf?”

“Both. Vampire too, but not activated yet.”

“Huh. Cool. Didn’t know that was a thing but I’m still new to all this supernatural stuff.”

“Yeah. It’s not really a thing.”

“Oh, you’re a liar?”

“No, I’m just the only tribrid. An exception. I shouldn’t exist, being all the creature at the same time should be impossible.”

“A miracle girl. Mh. I’m just a witch.”

“I know.”

“We didn’t know that for a long time so every time I did something magical, my parents would freak out and yell at me.” She chuckles and continues, “They’re very religious, you know, and believed I was evil. Not that they were wrong,” she says happily. “Yeah, yeah, I wasn’t the best kid, I have to admit. I’m still not.”

“Everyone thinks me and my family are evil. My father is called ‘The Great Evil’, in fact.”

“Well, are you?” Love asks interestedly.

“Most certainly,” Hope says, smirking.

“Mh. Evil. Eeee-vil. Weird word, isn’t it? Devil, evil, just one letter missing… huh.”

Hope watches as Love sits quietly, deep in thought. She takes the time to examine Love further. There are a few cuts on Love’s arm, hidden behind bracelets; besides the nose and ear piercings, she also has a tongue piercing, and she is very thin. 

Suddenly, with an extremely cheery voice, Love asks, “Do you wanna skip classes?”

“Please.” Rebekah will be mad but who the fuck cares? If her aunt won’t let her make her own decisions, then Hope will just ignore Rebekah’s.

“Let’s go!”

Love drags Hope to one of the roofs you can sit on, where they talk for a while.

Love, Hope has learned in their short time together, loves talking and is very animated while doing so, always moving her arms around in way that looks almost comical when telling stories. Sometimes it’s hard to follow her because she talks so fast. She is loud and cheery and _loves_ to smoke. There is hardly a time where ten minutes pass without Love smoking.

“Right, so I dreamt about kissing this girl,” Love begins, again sounding extremely cheerful, “and her tongue feels kinda weird, you know? I mean, tongues always feel weird, but this was different. Her tongue, what a weird word, isn’t it, was, like,_ super_ weird. I open my eyes and boom – her tongue is a dick. I mean-” she grins, eyes big, teeth showing, “You have seen a dick before, yeah? I’m sure you have. Imagine a tongue that looks like a dick. It was so gross. I could have given her a blowjob by kissing her. Maybe I’m giving too many blowjobs. They’re getting into my subconscious…” Love says, clicking her tongue, trailing off.

Hope laughs like she hasn’t laughed in a long, long time. For minutes, Hope can’t stop - stomach and cheeks hurting, tears running over her cheeks.

“I like you,” Love says, also laughing. “Everyone else I tell this story thinks I’m some sort of crazy person. Can you imagine that? How boring their dreams must be,” Love says pitifully. “At least they avoid me. Your turn, what’s your weirdest dream?”

When Hope finally regained some sort of composure, she begins thinking about her dreams. Most are just nightmares and not particularly weird.

“Oh, I know. OK, imagine a cut off head.”

“I like it already,” Love says, smiling.

“Now, what would you do with a cut off head? My subconscious had an idea, a creative one, in my opinion. So, eyes, nose and mouth were, like, patched up.” Hope looks at Love, grinning. “What is your favourite cereal?” she asks.

“No way,” Love says. “You…?”

“Ate cereals out of a cut off head? Yes, I did, in my dream.”

“What is wrong with your subconscious?” Love laughs.

“I have no idea. But hey, yours ain’t better.”

“No. My dream is weirder.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

“But yours is cool, too.”

“Thanks, Love.”

“You’re welcome, Hope.”

“Our names are the best, eh?” Love says.

“Yeah, everyone avoids Hope and Love. What a sad life they must have.”

“Not everyone can have such a happy life as us.”

Chuckling, Hope shakes her head. “Certainly not.”

“Hey, at least our lives aren’t boring, right?” Loves says, cheerful as ever.

“I guess. Honestly, I’d prefer a boring life over what I have now.”

“Mh, maybe, maybe not.”

“My aunt will be mad when she finds out I skipped classes. I’m surprised there isn’t a search party coming already,” Hope says, looking down the roof to see if there might actually be someone searching her.

“Disappointing family, I’m an expert at that.”

“I’m not. Not normally, at least.”

“Then it’s about time.”

“No, I’m actually really close to my family. I’m just, well – pissed off. They force me to stay here. I just wanna go home.”

“I understand,” Love says, another cigarette in her mouth. “You got me now, so, you see, it’s honestly not that bad.”

Hope looks at the witch out of the corner of her eyes, asking, “I do? I got you now?”

“Are you kidding me? I told you about my dick-tongue dream and you didn’t run away, of course we’re friends now! I thought you were smarter than this,” she says, again using a pitiful voice. 

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, Love.”

“Mh, maybe. I’m ready to find out, though. And besides, you don’t know me either, so it’ll be fun and that is what we all need, right? Fun!”

“Are you always so… uh-”

“Cheerful, excited?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, yeah, duh,” Love says, extending her arms to the sides, fully exposing them, and also pointing at her thighs. “C’mon, you have eyes. I know you’ve seen them. I’m always cheerful,” she says, “except when I’m not.”

“That,” Hope says, “sounds about right. Do you wanna talk about it?” Hope asks, vaguely gesturing at the self-harm cuts.

“No.” Love gets out a new cigarette.

“Didn’t think so.” 

“I like weirding people out,” Love says after a moment of silence in which she enjoyed her cigarette and Hope stared at the sky. “Shows me who is worth my attention. Spoiler alert: most aren’t. Some guys pretend they like my craziness because they wanna fuck me, you know? Works really well. One fuck and no risk of any feelings on their part, since I’m, you know, gaga. Still hot enough for sex, though. God, some guys are weird. Some of them are into some really,” she fake gags, “strange shit, but that is a story for another time.”

“Yeah. I’m more into girls than boys, to be honest.”

“Oh, and I thought we were just friends. Huh, yeah, I’d sleep with you,” Love says, nodding slightly. “Yeah, you’re hot. Gorgeous, even.”

“Sorry, my heart isn’t ready for someone new. But you’re hot too.”

“Oh no, who broke it?” Love asks sympathetically.

“I did.”

“How so? Tell me.” Love is leaning forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasping her face. Her big brown eyes penetrate Hope.

“Uh, there’s this girl I love, and we had sex. All good, right? Well, I lied to her, saying that I just used her. Directly after sex, I might add.” Hope sighs, incredulous at her past actions.

“Why would you do that, you idiot? Nooo.”

“Because I’m an idiot. And I have issues. I-” Hope shakes her head, rolling her eyes, “I believe everyone I love is in danger and will die. Which is totally fair, by the way. People do die on my all the time. Whatever. Then I left the school and now she has a girlfriend. Someone who I had a fuck-buddy relationship with.”

“Wow. Complicated.”

“Yeah.”

“And now you’re pining from the distance, heart aching and all?”

“I guess.”

“Why not a polyamorous relationship?” Love suggests. “If all of you had something together, why not? And you are weird enough to do this. Don’t know about the other two, though.”

“Yeah, no, I think this is off the table.”

“Mh, shame.”

“Why am I even telling you all this?” Hope wonders aloud.

“I guess I just have this kind of face, the ‘come and tell me your life story’ face.”

“Not really. More like the, ‘Run as far as you can’ face Are you really real? I haven’t seen you interacting with anyone else.”

“OK, what is going on with you that you have to ask me this? I wouldn’t normally ask but this is already the second time that you question my existence.”

“I’m seeing hallucinations of dead people.”

“Really? You mean – so, what, are they sitting here? Can I say hi? Hello, Hope’s hallucinations!”

“No, they aren’t here. That’s why I need the heroin.”

“I assure you, Hope, I am as real as you are.”

“Great. Nice.”

“Ok, to be fair, would I even know it if I were a hallucination?” Love ponders. “Maybe you are someone’s hallucination. Maybe we all are. Maybe we aren’t real. Can you be sure?”

“My do,” Hope says, ignoring the other questions, as they would fry her fragile grip on reality. “They like to pretend they’re real, but they know they’re not.”

“Cool. I’m as real as it gets.”

“Good to hear.”

“Hope!”

“It was fun while it lasted,” Hope says dispiritedly.

“Hope? What are you doing here?” Rebekah stands behind them, hands on her hips, looking unhappy.

“Bye, Love.”

“Bye, Hope.”

“Wait, Aunt Rebekah, before you are disappointed with me, is there a girl with blue hair sitting there?”

Love laughs.

“Yes,” Rebekah says, confused.

“Thank God.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, but seriously though, if you don’t think that a dick as a tongue is funny, what is wrong with you? Why are you here? Why are you reading my fic? 
> 
> My original plan was for Hope to suffer from DID (Dissociative identity disorder - meaning split personalities) but as this is not reversible and a lot harder to write, I decided against it. And frankly, hallucinations are way more entertaining and more fun to write.  
And the hallucinations have their original personality (which they shouldn’t have, as they’re just Hope’s imagination) also because it is more entertaining
> 
> About the withdrawal symptoms: I don’t know if we’ve seen a vampire go through withdrawal in this universe and I don’t care either. I believe that Hope, even with her vampire blood, should feel the normal symptoms. Maybe the symptoms wouldn’t be as extreme but when I think about how heroin works and what happens in your body during withdrawal, I think even vampires should be affected.  
However, I’m fairly sure that Hope’s withdrawal shouldn’t be so extreme, as she hasn’t been high that often so her body shouldn’t react in such an extreme way, but again, more fun to write, more entertaining. But, people with mental health issues experience worse withdrawals, so,… I really don’t need to explain myself. 
> 
> I never had the intention of writing a super realistic story and we are talking about a world with vampires and witches and werewolves and sirens and dragons and mummies and mud golems and and and….
> 
> By the way, I know how I will end this story (well, still debating between two possibilities). The end is near, assholes. 
> 
> If you’re wondering about updates for my other stories: I’m almost 10k words deep into Hyouhaku (it will be a very long chapter) and Remembrance is currently not in my hands as to when you’ll see more. The next chapter of numb shouldn’t take long. Emphasis is on shouldn’t. No promises. 
> 
> Isn’t it funny how my notes alone are longer than many fics? Have a nice, hallucination free day, everyone.


	10. Champagne Supernova

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title -> Champagne Supernova by Oasis. I know you don’t give a shit about the titles but I’m giving you a killer playlist with all my chapter and fic titles. Just saying.

“You can’t just be running off like this without telling us!” Rebekah says loudly. “I was about to talk to Alaric and force everyone here to search you when I heard your voice.”

Walking in front of her aunt, in direction of her room, Hope says, “Why not? Really? What could have happened? Another kidnapping? Suicide? I would wake up anyway. And I wasn’t running off, I was right here.”

Rebekah visibly gulps, blinking a tear away. “Do you realize how much it hurts me hearing you say this?”

“Apparently not.”

Once in her room, Hope slams the door shut, leaving Rebekah outside. Hope paces through her room, frustrated. Normally she would paint now. A relaxing painting session would be ideal right now. 

But she can’t do that, as there is nothing here to paint on or with.

She stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom, trying out different hairstyles and colors with a simple wave of her hand. Sometimes she forgets that she was once a redhead and even what her hair currently looks like.

She hardly recognizes herself when she sees her blonde hair.

Being a witch does have its perks, as magic allows Hope to easily dye her hair back to what it once was, or rather a mix of her childhood hair and her teenage hair, a mix of a lot red and a little brown. She also makes it longer.

With all the things going on she finds herself yearning for familiarity.

For some time, she sits and looks out of the window. Luckily, she brought her backpack with notebook and pens, allowing her to still live out her artistic needs.

Also in her backpack is one vial of doppelganger blood and one vial of vampire-cure blood. She looks at the vials for a while, reconsidering her plans.

She puts them back in her backpack and leaves her room in favor of the school gym – a place where she hasn’t been in a while.

Hitting the old, familiar punching bag is oddly calming, better than she remembered it being. After a few minutes of exorcizing her frustrations out of her hands, Hope is unpleasantly surprised by old classmates.

“So it’s true,” Jed says, surrounded by the majority of the werewolf pack, “you are really back.” They surround her in a way they probably think looks threatening; Hope thinks they look cute.

“Obviously,” Hope drones.

“I believe you remember what happened last time you crossed us?”

“Jed,” Hope laughs, “don’t worry, sweetie, I won’t rip your heart out.”

“Watch your mouth or we will beat you up again, regardless of Josie showing up,” one of the wolves snarls.

“Ohhhh, right, now I remember,” Hope says, eyeing her nails. “You mean the time I let you beat me up,” she says mockingly. “Yeah, I don’t think that will happen again. My aunt and uncle aren’t as forgiving as I am.”

They wouldn’t hurt children, but Jed and the pack don’t need to know that.

“Is that a threat?” Jed asks, eyes flashing dangerously.

“Obviously,” Hope yawns. “Relax, will ya? I’m not in your classes anymore, and you won’t see me around unless you seek me out. Which isn’t my problem if you do.”

“It’s about time that you aren’t part of us anymore. You never were a true wolf.”

“You know, a few months ago I would have been angry about such a stupid opinion, but I have much bigger worries nowadays, so do me a favor and just leave me alone.”

The next day Hope wakes up looking into blue eyes. For a moment she just stares at the face, in the eyes.

_'Will you paint with me?' the little girl sitting on her asks sweetly._

Hope watches the girl jump up from the bed, happily walking to Hope’s desk. The girl climbs on the chair at the desk and then continues a drawing Hope has started yesterday.

Looking around, Hope sees no trace of Katherine, Camille or Inadu – only her seven-year-old self. 

Head in her hands, breathing deeply, Hope is already wide awake even though she just woke up.

She watches her younger self draw for a minute, then she immediately gets heroin, injecting a needle into her veins, sighing as the girl disappears. As always now, she takes just enough to get rid of her hallucinations and so that her mental capabilities are still half decent.

A few minutes later, Hope wordlessly sits down at her usual table, Love already waiting there. 

“What happened to you?” Love asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Oh, wait, stupid of me, you probably did. Oh – and you changed your hair! Looks so much better than before! No offense.”

“I just saw my seven-year-old self,” Hope says distractedly. Her thoughts are still full on what just happened. “I tried to kill myself because of her,” she realizes, remembering the cold blue eyes she saw before everything went to black.

“You tried to kill yourself?” Love asks, tone between concerned and curious.

“Huh? Yeah,” Hope says, still absolutely not focused on Love. She falls silent, staring at the table.

“Hope? Hope, are you listening? Hello? Helloooooo?” Love pouts. “Sometimes I superglue my thumbs to my nipples and pretend I’m a t-rex.”

“What?” Hope says.

“Of course you react when I talk about my nipples.”

“Sorry, I zoned out.”

“Really? Didn’t notice.”

“So,” Hope says, “…you really do that?”

Love snorts, laughing at the question. “No, I just read that somewhere. Thought it was funny. So, you hallucinated your younger self?”

“Yes.”

“That’s kinda fucked up.”

“Tell me about it,” Hope mutters.

“How did you do it?” Love asks.

“Do what?”

“Try to kill yourself.”

“I cut my throat.”

“Hm,” Love hums sympathetically. “And you survived that?”

Hope shrugs, saying, “First aid magic and my healing abilities are otherworldly. I once lost a finger and a toe and they both just regrew.”

“Ew. Who found you? Must have been quite the shock for whoever it was.”

“Josie and Penelope. Or my aunt and uncle, I’m not sure. They saved me, probably.”

Love looks at Hope, expression blank. “Who?”

“They’re in your class, are they not?” Hope laughs. “Here, these two over there,” Hope says, pointing at the table at which Penelope and Josie are sitting.

“Oh, these two. Yeah. I don’t like them.”

“Really? Why?”

“They’ve both been bitches to me. Glared at me every time I sat here for the first few weeks, and the one on the right, Josie? I don’t know what’s up with her, but she has some kind of personal problem with me. She’s been so passive-aggressive. She could just tell me what her problem is instead of acting like a twelve-year-old.”

“Josie? Josie’s been anything other than nice to you? What have you done to her?”

“Wait,” Love says, taking a good look at Hope, at the affronted face of the tribrid. “It’s them, isn’t it? The one you love and the ex-fuck buddy. Yeah?”

“Yeah. That obvious?”

“Yes. And I’ve done nothing. Only minded my own business,” Love says indignantly.

“I’m sure,” Hope says in a tone that makes it obvious that she doubts that.

“Eh, I suppose they can’t be that bad if you like them,” Love shrugs, getting out a cigarette.

For a few minutes they sit in silence, then, frowning, Love says, “They saved your life? Josie and what’s-her-name?”

“Penelope. Yep. Well, I would still be alive either way, so… doesn’t really matter.”

“Hm?” Love hums inquisitively.

“As a full tribrid, with my vampire side active,” Hope explains.

“Ah, OK. Hmm, but –” Love stops. “Ah, so that’s the reason you took a break, isn’t it? Yeah, seems so obvious now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you took a break from school.”

“Yeah, I did,” Hope says, throwing a questioning look at Love.

“What?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, to be honest.”

“You took the break because of your suicide attempt, obviously,” Love says, rolling her eyes.

“No,” Hope says slowly. “It actually happened only a few days ago.”

“What?” Love says, flabbergasted. “And you – what? You are here? In school? What the hell?”

“Where else would I be?” Hope asks uncertainly.

“In a psychiatric hospital? Seems like the obvious answer to me. I mean, hey, maybe you can take a suicide attempt and just go on as if nothing happened. I don’t think many people can, though.”

“Uh…” Hope clears her throat. “I mean, I wasn’t in a clear mind when I did it. It’s not a big deal, really. I’ve moved on.” Hope hadn’t even considered this possibility. Neither had her family, it seems, but that is hardly surprising.

Looking skeptical, “Yeah, no big deal,” Love answers sarcastically. “No matter how high you were, and trust me, I know what I’m talking about -” she grins cheekily “- changes that, you know.”

“I guess.”

“You need a therapist,” Love says, clicking her tongue. “Or, well, you should consider having one at least.”

“Do you have one?” Hope asks, deciding to shift the attention away from her. She doesn’t have a problem talking about what she did; after all, she can hardly remember it, but right now, she feels a little uncomfortable.

“Had one. Before I was sent here.” Love smiles hollowly. “I tried this woman here. What was her name again? Mh, Ella? No. Grace? No, not Grace. Elizabeth? Whatever. She wasn’t that great.”

“Emma?”

“If that’s her name.”

“Yeah, she’s the school’s therapist. I don’t like her, either. But most people here seem to get along with her quite well, so maybe I’m the problem,” Hope says, shrugging.

“Maybe.” The witch pops her lips. “Maybe not. Who knows?”

“I guess I’m not an easy case. I don’t blame her.”

“Hmm. Let’s get to class,” Love says, sighing as she stands up.

A day of History of Magic, Chemistry of Magic, and fucking Geography follows. Hope has almost forgotten how a normal school day feels, it’s been so long since she last had one. The unfamiliarity isn’t the only reason she is having a hard time focusing on the teachers’ words, more important is that her thoughts are everywhere but on school.

She feels quite ridiculous even trying to focus on class.

There is so much going on in her head.

Once classes ended, she got to her room and let herself fall on to her bed. She gets her old headphones and blasts music in her ears as she just looks at the ceiling.

She briefly thinks about what Katherine and Inadu would say if they were there, then she turns the music even louder in an attempt to banish her hallucinations from occupying even more of her time.

As Hope is pretty much ignoring and avoiding Rebekah, Marcel tries to talk to her. Sitting on the tribrid’s bed, he watches her as she is going through old things that didn’t burn to ashes when she set her room on fire.

“Talking to my hallucinations, brilliant idea,” Hope tells him.

“Did it work?”

“No, you moron. Inadu and Katherine just made fun of me.”

“What about Camille? What did she say?”

“Barely anything. Katherine and Inadu didn’t let her talk much.”

“This may be a stupid question, but they are your hallucinations, part of you mind, can’t you control them? At least to some extend?”

“I-” Hope looks at him, “I don’t know. I haven’t – I don’t think so.”

“You haven’t, what, tried it?”

“No. And before you suggest talking to them again, I won’t do that.”

“Are they that bad?”

“I got myself addicted to heroin because of them. Shouldn’t that answer your question?”

“What is it that they say?”

“All kinds of insults. Last time they reminded me of shitty things Dad did and what they did to me. They are creative, I have to give them that.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think you should keep trying. The whole point was to talk to Camille, and it looks like you didn’t do that.”

“Please go,” Hope says.

“Hope.”

“Please. Leave me alone.”

“We only want what is best for you, Hope.”

“Marcel, please. Let me be alone as long as I can. I won’t ask again.”

“OK, OK.”

Some time later, after Marcel left, Hope is looking at two letters, both of which she has read many times.

_‘Dear Zoe... or Kaitlyn... or Angela. To my little girl. _

_Your dad just asked if this was a love letter. I guess it kind of is. I never got to know my mother. I have no idea what she must have thought when she carried me. So, I thought I'd write to you, so you can know how happy I am at this very moment. How much your father and I can't wait to meet you... And I want to make you a promise, of three things that you will have that I never did: a safe home, someone to tell you that they love you every single day, and someone to fight for you, no matter what. In other words, a family. So, there you go, baby girl. The rest, we're going to have to figure out together. _

_I love you. Your mom.’ _

Hope barely glances at the letter after finishing it. But she still holds it tightly. For a moment she considers setting it on fire, letting it die the way it should have many months ago.

She tries, she really tries, but she can’t bring herself to do it.

_‘I’ve forgiven you. Don’t you remember?’_

Not even flinching at hearing the new or rather old, deeply familiar voice, Hope puts the letter to the side in favor of another one. 

“No, but I haven’t forgiven myself.”

She takes another letter. One of the few letters she has from her dad.

_‘My dearest Hope,_

_I do not know how this will find you. As a child full of wonder, a teenager full of opinions, or a woman with the world at her feet. I write to tell you that I love you, and to explain that in our family's darkest hour, I was called upon to save my siblings – and so I did. Please, do not mourn me. Whatever pain I endure, I do in service of those I love. My sole regret is that I will be away from you. Be good to your mother. I draw comfort knowing that she will protect you. And I know she will not rest until our family is united. Until then, my sacrifice will allow you to grow. To become the beautiful daughter I can now only imagine. Please remember that you are the legacy this family has always desired, the promise we fought to protect. You will always be our hope.’_

“Yeah, I was real good to her,” Hope mocks the letter, or herself – she isn’t sure.

_‘We still love you, sweetheart.’ _

When has seeing and hearing hallucinations become so familiar that she barely registers their presence?

“Shut up, hallucination Dad. You too, hallucination Mom.”

Hope twists her head in their direction. Between her father and mother is her seven-year-old self, all looking happy, like a family.

_‘Come play with us,’ the little girl says. _

“Fuck you,” Hope responds. She isn’t even sure who the words at directed at.

They don’t seem to hear Hope, just smiling at her, before vanishing again.

_‘What a lovely little imagination,’ Katherine whispers into her ears, her hot breath feeling disgusting. _

“Piss off.”

_‘You truly have your father’s charm.’_

“Stop talking about my dad,” Hope sighs.

_‘And what if I don’t stop?’ Katherine asks. _

“Then I’ll force you to watch how I put a paintbrush up my asshole,” Hope deadpans.

_‘Gross,’ Inadu says. _

_‘If you deepthroat the paintbrush after, I’ll show you my third nipple,’ Katherine says. _

“You have a third nipple?”

_‘Nope. Is your asshole clean? I mean, we know you had problems with diarrhoea.’_

“I didn’t fucking – shut up.”

_‘Or what?’_

“I hate you.”

_‘I hate you too.’ Katherine smiles. _

_‘How are you, Hope?’ Camille asks. _

“Seriously? First I’m seeing my dead parents and then I have to deal with this bitch, and you ask me how I am?”

_‘I’m serious. Tell me. As detailed as you can.’_

“Why?”

_‘Because I want you to tell me.’_

Hope looks at Katherine who is dancing wildly to a song only she seems to hear, then at Inadu who is trying to cast spells at a window.

“Fine. Fine. I feel tired, most of all,” Hope says shortly.

_‘Go on,’ Camille says patiently. _

“I’m not used to getting up so early for school anymore, you know.”

_‘Yes. What else?’_

“I’m annoyed.”

_‘About what exactly?’_

“I want them, and you, gone. For good. Leave me alone. Like, what’s this question?”

_‘What else do you want?’_

“Peace. Peace and quiet.”

_‘And how will you get that?’_

_‘Not by deepthroating a paintbrush,’ Katherine calls. _

“The fuck do I know? You’re the therapist, Camille.”

_‘No, I’m not. Because I’m not real. I am you.’_

“Yes,” Hope says impatiently, “you keep saying that, but that doesn’t help at all. What do you want me to do?”

Hope looks at Camille, blinks – Camille gone.

“Are you kidding me?”

Katherine is trying her best at opera singing, while Inadu argues with the window about politics or something.

Three days later, Hope and Love leave Chemistry of Magic, the last subject of the day.

“I actually have a car,” Hope mentions casually. “I completely forgot about it. It has been standing here for months, unused.”

“I don’t wanna be a bad influence or whatever,” Love says jokingly, “but we could just go somewhere with your car. Get out, have fun.”

Hope considers the witch’s words for a moment. “Yeah,” she says, “let’s do this.”

After driving for a while, in the middle of Mystic Falls now, Hope suddenly stops at the side of the street, turning to Love. “I’m high, I shouldn’t drive.” Not for her own sake, but for Love.

“Hm. True, I guess. Well, what’s the plan then?”

“There’s a store not far from here. Buy alcohol and get drunk?”

“Works for me.”

The cashier at the store looks at them with a raised brow. “Identification, please,” he says.

“You don’t need to see my identification,” Hope says, waving her hand and looking deeply into his eyes, seeing his pupils dilate and contract.

She hands him the cash for the alcohol, and they leave.

“What did you do to him? That was, like, Star Wars shit, how you convinced him,” Love says.

“Compulsion spell. Never tried it before.”

“Taking away free will… nice.”

“I don’t like it either but what was the alternative there?”

Love shrugs.

“C’mon. I know a cool spot in the woods close by.”

Hope leads them to a spot that she has found during a wolf run once.

A few minutes later, the two girls sit, leaning against a tree, not deep into the forest, bottles of alcohol sprawled out in front of them.

“I hate living!” Love declares dramatically, almost losing her grip on her bottle because she gestured so wildly. “Like, ugh, what’s the point? Why should I live this life? I hate it. I don’t want it.”

She opens her backpack and throws out a pack of tabaco, rolling papers and filters.

Hope remains quiet, unsure as to what caused the emotional outburst. She watches, opening the first bottle, drinking, as Love rolls cigarette after cigarette, which is extremely soothing to see. A lot of cigarettes later, she searches through her backpack with a pissed off expression.

“You OK?” Hope says.

“Yes.”

Love turns away from her, not letting Hope see what she’s doing.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Just, ugh, I don’t know! I’m pissed.”

“Why?” Hope asks, letting her head fall back against the tree behind her. She is speed drinking right now.

“Do I need a reason?”

“I don’t know, normally I have a reason when I’m angry.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t.”

“OK. You can talk to me if you need to.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious.”

Snorting, Love replies, “Jesus, I thought we were just getting wasted together. No need for therapy with someone who just tried to kill themselves.”

“You don’t need to be a dick,” Hope says. “I’m just saying if you need to talk to someone who isn’t a clueless therapist, I’m here. I might understand you better than most people at school, you know.”

Love turns around, sitting down opposite to Hope, joint in hand. She offers the joint to Hope after taking two drags, but the tribrid declines. 

“Fuck this shit,” Love says.

“Cheers.”

They drink, with Love also smoking her usual loads of cigarettes after being done with the joint.

“How do you wanna die?” the blue haired girl asks cheerily, dropping down next to Hope against the tree.

“I don’t know if I even can die.”

“Whatever. Just answer the question.”

“Well, getting murdered or suicide seem to be the likeliest options.”

“I asked how you want to get out, not what is probable.”

“I don’t know. I like how my dad died. Sacrifice for love seems like a good way to me. I mean, peacefully falling asleep or heart attacks are off the table for me. But what does it matter? People just die so much. You’d think in a world of immortal beings, death wouldn’t be so common. They just die. All the time.”

“That’s what people DO!”

Hope flinches because of the sudden scream.

“Have you never watched Sherlock?” Love asks sweetly.

“No.”

“Oh, then I should explain that I just quoted Moriarty.”

“Who?”

“Seriously!” Love shakes her head in disbelieve. “We will watch Sherlock. You seriously don’t know Moriarty? He’s one of the greatest antagonists of all time!”

“I’ve never seen the show, nor have I read the books,” Hope says plainly.

“We’ll watch it,” Love decides. “Just the first two seasons, though. The quality dips after that. My best friend _loved_ this show. He was obsessed.” She smiles faintly. “I used to tease him about it all the time. He was, like, trying to be like Sherlock, you know, deducing people and reading body language and things like this, at least when he was sober,” she chuckles. “He was really bad at first, but he got better…”

Her smile fades from her face.

“I only watched the show after he died. To see why he was so obsessed, you know. I’ve probably seen it more than he has by now.”

“You don’t need to tell me about him,” Hope says. 

Love ignores her, continuing, “Moriarty is the greatest. Villains are just so much more interesting, right, and he’s so wonderfully crazy. And hot, oh, he’s hot. Mh, and he went out the perfect way,” Love says, smiling into her bottle as she drinks.

Hope waits for Love to go on, just raising an eyebrow.

“Anyway,” Love says, “what’s your favorite show?”

“No, wait – how did he go out? You gotta tell me now.”

Love gasps. “No? Duh. That’d be a spoiler!”

“Tell me,” Hope says sternly. “You asked me about how I would wanna die and I answered, so you owe me.”

“No.”

“Love, tell me.”

They stare at each other for a moment, both unwilling to back down.

“Fine. He dies the moment he finds his soulmate, Hope, when he realizes his wishes have been fulfilled. All his life he searched for his equal and the moment he found this person, he blew his brain out. Died in peace, finally happy and fulfilled.”

“So, he committed suicide?”

“Yeeaaahh.” Love lights a cigarette and lies back, her back on the ground. “The sky is turning,” she says.

“You’re just drunk,” Hope replies.

“Oh. Yeah, that might be it.”

Hope chuckles. “Favorite TV show? To be honest, I haven’t really watched much. The only times I could watch anything was when I was at home and I rather spent my time with my family than watch TV. I mean, I have a laptop, but I never use it.”

“So, what have you watched, then? I’m gonna punch you if you say you like Riverdale.”

“What is Riverdale?” Hope asks.

“Nothing, nothing. Just a terrible show.”

“My mom’s ex-not-boyfriend/not-so-casual hookup liked this one show. Mom didn’t like me watching it, but we did it anyways. I don’t remember what it is called, but it was about the FBI in the 70s, I think. They were, like, developing ways to understand serial killers and they came up with this whole behavioral science shit in the FBI.”

“Sounds interesting. Was this based on real life?”

“Yes, well, I mean the show was based on a book. The unit was real and the killers they interviewed were real, too. The conversations with the killers were taken from the real interviews. It’s really cool.”

“Your mom didn’t like it?”

“No, she did like the show. I think she was afraid I would think bad of my dad because of the serial killers shown there. My dad has a high kill count, you know.”

“Was she right?”

“No. I still missed him all the same.”

They sit there for hours, drinking, talking. At some point Hope thought it would be a good idea to tell someone where she is, so she sent Marcel a text.

He immediately called her, which she ignored.

“I feel like half the school hates you,” Love says cheerily.

“They do,” Hope says casually. “The wolves hate me, vampires don’t really like me, either. The witches accept me the most.”

“What is their problem?”

“My tribrid nature,” Hope says. “They think I’m an abomination because I’m wolf, vampire and witch. And my name – Mikaelson, I don’t know what you know about my family, but we aren’t very popular in the supernatural community, to put it mildly. And I almost killed the alpha of the wolves.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Did you almost kill the alpha.”

“I don’t even remember,” Hope says. Then, frowning, she says, “I don’t even remember why I almost killed someone. God…”

“God won’t help you,” Love chuckles.

“No,” Hope agrees. “Do you believe in God? Since, you know, your parents –”

“Were religious fanatics? No, I don’t. You?”

“No.”

“Great. Want one?” Love points at her cigarettes.

“One addiction is enough, thank you,” Hope replies.

“Hm, yeah.” She is quiet for a moment. Smiling happily, she says, “Where were you while we were getting high?”

“Huh?”

“It’s a line. From a song, not cocaine, obviously, have you ever tried cocaine? You with your hallucinations probably shouldn’t, sensory overload would be bad, I guess. Uh, Champagne Supernova, the song. You know it?”

Hope shakes her head, slightly irritated but she’s already gotten used to Love’s way of talking.

“I _love_ this song. Used to listen to it a lot, like, all the time. Not as much anymore, though, but it always throws me right back to simpler times, when getting yelled at because of my drug use was my biggest problem. Good times.” She smiles.

“Do you have another dream?”

“Another dream?”

“Yeah. You know, something funny like last time.”

“Uh, I don’t know. Do I look like I have crazy and funny dreams all the time? Not a dream but I could tell you about one awkward, uh, almost fuck, I guess, if you want. Stupid boy story.”

“Sure,” Hope says, opening another bottle and starting to drink.

“It’s not really funny, more, I don’t know, fucked up, I guess. Yeah.”

“Tell me if you want to, don’t if you don’t want to.”

“Hm,” Love hums. She sits up, crawls closer to Hope, loses her balance, and lands with her head on Hope’s lap. “Heeeyy,” she exclaims happily. “You look funny from down here.”

“Wanna get up?”

“Nah, I’m quite comfortable right now. Give me my bottle, would you?”

“All right,” Hope chuckles, handing over Love’s bottle and cigarettes.

“OK, so, story time with Love. That’s me, by the way.”

Hope smiles. Even while lying down and really drunk, Love still moves her hands like no one else. And she can still talk like a waterfall. Wait, waterfalls can’t talk. That –

“Right, you ready, Miss I-Use-Heroin-In-Class?”

“What? Oh, yes, Miss I-dream-About-Dicks-As-Tongues. You weirdo.”

“You too, Hope’s hallucinations?”

“They aren’t here.”

“Oh, shame. I bet they would have loved this story. Hm. Whatever. So,” Love drinks one more time, humming a song after.

“You’re gonna tell the story some time today? Preferably before sunset.” Hope says. 

“Let a girl get ready, all right? Unthankful, pfft. OK, after my best friend, you know, yeah, I got deeper into drugs than ever before. Weed turned into, well, more extreme drugs. I shouldn’t give you any more ideas, should I? So, I basically live at this place, where I always get high, others live there too, get high with me. People come and go, drink, do drugs, yeah, you get it. I didn’t shower for days at a time, only when I snuck back home when my parents were away. It was gross, I gotta tell you. Gross.”

“Wasn’t this a sex story?”

“Shh, I’m getting to it, you need the context. So, this place, there are mostly guys there, some older, some younger, you know. And this one guy,” Love laughs, “this one guy, I’m not sure what he was on, but it must have been good. Really fucking good. He jumps on the ground and holds his arms like he is carrying a rifle and he shouts, ‘The droids are coming! The droids are coming! Tell Captain Rex! Secure the perimeter!’ He thought he was Commander Cody, you know, from Star Wars. You probably don’t even know Star Wars, do you? Ah… The whole time he just screamed at the top of his lungs about the upcoming droid attack. Said to save the Wookiees or something. Anyway.

“While this guy believes to be Commander Cody, another guy talks to me. Huge guy, muscular. I think he was in the football team or something. Hm, don’t know, don’t care. He wasn’t normally there, not part of the usual crowd. So, this guy and I, we make out and shit, the usual. I already get my shirt off, he has his pants down, when he takes my left arm, right, and he looks at me with this mad expression. I get a little panicked because his grip is really tight and kinda hurts and he is so big. But he just looks at me, just looks at me…” Love stares at Hope with an unsettling intensity.

“What did he do?” Hope asks with a foreboding feeling.

“He pulls me closer and,” Love snorts, “begins kissing my scars. Every single one. And there aren’t _that_ many at this point but still a few,” she says, pointing at her left arm. “And I am kinda perplexed, you see, because no one did that before. So I let him do it for a minute. He just kisses my scars, even the fresh cuts. Then he says, ‘Why are you doing this to yourself?’ He says, ‘Your skin is so perfect, why do you ruin it?’ What a fucking liar, my skin is anything but perfect. I’m still confused, not sure what to do. Yeah, and then he says, ‘I will fix you.’ That’s when I kneed him in his balls. Twice.”

First Love takes another gulp from her drink, then she lights a cigarette.

“How did he react?” Hope asks quietly.

“He stares at me. Furiously. Yells at me, calls me a bitch, tells me I’m ugly, that I’m fucked up and that I will die from an overdose, alone in the streets without anyone caring. All that shit, you know. Pretty funny, considering he was just about to fuck someone he apparently considered ugly,” Love chuckles. “Mind you, I didn’t know I was a witch back then so I was quite surprised when he was suddenly flying across the whole room, into another junkie.

“This motherfucker, this dumb, stupid, idiotic moron of a boy wanted to fix me by kissing my scars away. OK, he might have been high too, but… He starts yelling even more so I take a cigarette, right, take a drag – and press it, the cigarette, into his arm and tell him, ‘Here, now you can kiss your own scars away, asshole.’ Yeah. Kinda cringy when I think about it now. Should have said something cooler. Oh well.”

“And he backed off after that?”

“No.”

“Well?”

“He hit me. Punched me straight in the face.”

“Go on!” Hope says impatiently.

“I don’t know what happened next. I was out cold. I mean, look at me, he was like three times my size, if not more. When I woke up, my head hurt. Like, hurt hurt, like I’ve never experienced before. I could hardly stand; walking wasn’t even an option. Everything just hurt. One woman there had a phone and let me use it, bless her. But first I used the camera to look at myself. I… well, had a bruised lip, my right eye was swollen, my nose had been bleeding and was looking real ugly. I was full of blood.” 

“You just woke up on the floor? No one helped you or called an ambulance?”

“You don’t know these people. If they even notice enough of reality to know where they are, it’s a win. This guy could have raped me and I don’t think anyone would have stopped him. I don’t know. So, my head hurt, I could hardly move, but I had a phone. I called an ambulance, which was quite the feat because I was laughing my ass off because the guy on the line had a really funny voice, I swear he sounded like Chewbacca, and they got me after the woman took over the phone call. Again, bless her. She even helped me to go outside and wait there. 

“In the hospital they told me I had a concussion and my nose only looks like this because of this guy. Yeah, it was broken. Never quite looked the same. And, to top it all off, I was arrested while still in the hospital. Still had drugs on me. Funnily enough it was my parents who called the police. Yeah, they didn’t care when I basically ran away and was homeless or when some asshole knocked me out, but God forbid having drugs on me. That’s too much, obviously…

“Following was withdrawal, staying at a psychiatric hospital for ages, getting out, falling back to weed as my lifeline because surprise, surprise, I wasn’t ready for the world again. Too much trauma even after all the work done with my therapist and life kept on being miserable. Anyway, these are stories for another day.”

“Wow,” Hope says quietly, not sure what to say to all of this.

“Yeah,” Love hums. “And the moral of the story: don’t fucking kiss my scars. I don’t need to be fucking fixed. It’s honestly so insulting. Yeah, I cut my arms and legs open at times, so fucking what, eh? I have my reasons, I have my problems, and yeah, I should probably get help by a professional again, I know, but I’m not broken! I don’t need to be fixed! Screw you if you think that. Sorry for rant.”

“It’s fine. I get it. People don’t like what they don’t understand and things we do, be it self-harm or drugs, are hard to understand, many don’t get it. They don’t want to or can’t understand. And I get it. It’s hard to understand when you haven’t experienced the same things.”

“Yeah. Aren’t we cliché teenagers, huh? Complaining about how no one understands us. Ohh, poor us... Do you think you need to be fixed? You with your heroin problem and your hallucinations, do you think you’re broken?”

Hope doesn’t answer.

“I don’t think you are. You are you. You are Hope – and that is perfect, all you need. Everyone who wants to ‘fix’ you or turn you into something that you are not can fuck themself!” Love declares happily but also sounding serious. 

“I miss my therapist,” she continues in a sad tone. “She was really cool.”

“She must have been if she was able to deal with you,” Hope says dryly.

“Yeah. You asshole.” Love grins.

Looking at a tree ahead, Hope continues to empty another bottle of alcohol. “You have so many interesting life stories.”

“Eh, I’m sure you have many stories of your own. I mean, all my stories involve drugs and stupid boys. At least the one I talk about. Like, so boring, isn’t it? All I got is boys and drugs. That’s not a lot. Sad is what it is. I need to get better stories.”

“Hey, I’m very entertained by your stories.”

“Why, thank you,” Love beams.

“And to be honest, I’d rather have drug and boy stories than what I have. Most of the things I could tell you are just heartbreak stories. Not that your stories fill anyone with happiness.”

“Heartbreak stories ain’t fun to tell,” Love says, head still on Hope’s lap.

“No, they’re not.”

“So tell me something fun, all right.”

“Mh.”

“Hey, I told you one, now it’s your turn.”

To return the favour, Hope tells Love about her last birthday, about all the ridiculous gifts, about Marcel the cockblock, the private ballet performance and all the rest.

“So,” Love says, “you got a sword?”

“Yeah. Somewhere. And bow and arrow.”

“Your family sounds awesome.”

“They are. They’re the best.”

“Did they give you, uh, like, something that would bring you more pleasure?”

Hope raises an eyebrow, not knowing what Love means.

“Like, you know, for lonely nights.”

“What?”

“Sex toys, Hope. Dildos?”

“No,” Hope says slowly. “No.”

“Mh, I had this classmate – you know what? No, not gonna tell you this story. Whatever. I was just curious. Ugh. I think I should stop drinking. Scratch that, I should have stopped an hour ago. How do you take it like it’s nothing, you’ve been drinking way more than me?”

“Don’t vomit on me, please.”

“I’m just gonna chill for a while.” Love hardly gets the words out, before turning away and throwing up. “Hey, I didn’t hit you,” Love smiles exuberantly, looking at Hope who is holding the witch’s blue hair.

“Thankfully,” Hope says. A wave of her hand later, the puke is gone.

Readjusting her position, now lying completely on the ground, Love says, “Brings back so many memories, throwing up. I used to do it all the time.”

“Really? Because of drugs?” Hope lies down next to her, both looking at the sky and the top of the trees.

“No, not really,” Love says quietly. “Well, partly, yes, but no. I told you about how my parents freaked out when I did something magical, yeah? So, to avoid that, I tried to repress this side of myself and my body was like, ‘Fuck you’. I mean, I didn’t know what I was or what I was doing, but only when I stopped fighting my nature did the vomiting stop. Even if I wasn’t aware of what I was doing. Therapy would have been a lot easier if I’d known back then.”

“Huh.”

“But I’m sure the drugs didn’t help.”

“I,” Hope begins, “I, well, I have a similar problem, I guess. Ever since I activated my werewolf curse, I have been vomiting again and again and I have absolutely no idea why. But I’m not rejecting my supernatural sides. At least I don’t think so. And I don’t think it’s normal to throw up when you suppress your magic. Never heard of that.”

“I don’t know what is going on with you. Or what happened with me.”

“No one ever seems to know,” Hope says quietly. “Wait – God, my brain is slow today. Didn’t you say you killed your best friend through a magic accident or something?”

“Yep.”

“But you just said that this story happened after and that you didn’t know about being a witch.”

“Also true.”

“I’m confused. I thought you found out about being a witch when this happened.”

“I killed him,” the witch says tensely. “But I didn’t realize how it happened, that it was magic acting up because of emotional distress.”

“You didn’t know that you did it,” Hope says, feeling sorry and bad for bringing it up, but also still very curious.

Love presses the top of her cigarette, the burning part, against her left thumb, wincing. A moment later she moves her right hand over the burnt flesh and watches on as it heals.

“Learned healing spells,” she says numbly.

“Don’t answer if you don’t want to, but was it worse for you that it was your doing that caused his death? Or was it easier to think it was an accident or whatever happened? I basically killed my parents and I think it would be easier if it wasn’t my fault. They’d still be dead but, you know…”

“Both sucked. Accident or my fault, he’s still dead.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you.”

Scoffing, Love replies, “I don’t need your condolences. I’m not sorry for myself, I’m sorry for his mother. Best woman I know. She was more of a mom to me than my own mother. His death broke her.”

“I guess I understand now,” Hope says.

“Understand what?”

“Why you hate living.”

“Hm, do you?” Love asks skeptically. “Well, what about you, then?”

“Are you this angry with me? Is staying here so horrible that you have to act like this?” Rebekah demands. Hope and Love are in the Original’s car, after Rebekah came and picked them up. Hope didn’t want or ask her to.

“I don’t really care, to be honest. I just wanted to have some fun,” Hope says emotionlessly.

“All I want from you is to go to your class and tell me where you are.”

“Both of which I did,” Hope points out. “You may force me to stay here but you can’t control what I do in my free time.”

“I’m not – Hope, I’m just worried.”

“About what? No one is going to kidnap me here. Love sure as hell won’t. Or do you trust me this little that you think I’m just away slitting my throat or something?” Hope says as they come to a halt in front of the school.

“To your room!” Rebekah says firmly.

“You’re not my mom, no matter how much you wish you were,” Hope snarls, slamming the car door shut.

“Uhm, thanks for the ride, Miss Mikaelson,” Love says quickly and runs after Hope.

Hope gets into her room and immediately opens five grimoires that she borrowed from the library, all on pages about potions and the usage of blood in spells. The next hours are a rush of reading, taking notes and coming up with an actual plan.

Now, knowing that her guess is true and that she can probably make it happen, she hesitates.

The solution to her problems is right there – she just has to commit to it. Well, she still needs to perform some very complicated witchcraft and get the potion exactly right, but she is confident in her abilities.

However, the thought of going through with her plan is suddenly that much more intimidating.

Hope Mikaelson could just become Hope Marshall once again, truly this time.

With the combined power of doppelganger and cure blood, she can make a potion that should destroy the vampire part in her. Then she binds her werewolf curse and lastly, she gives up her magic –

No more Mikaelson tribrid freakshow – just a normal girl.

If she decides to do this there is no return. Yes, she can get her magic back and curses can be broken, but her vampire blood will be gone for good. No more tribrid, no more abomination talks, no one who can make hybrids. Everyone would be happy about that.

But what will she do if more old family enemies show up to torture her or kill her again? She would be truly helpless. 

Many of Love’s many words echo through her head. Not needing to be fixed, rejecting her nature…

But she isn’t Love.

She’s Hope Mikaelson, the heir of a thousand years of murder and evil deeds, destined for an immortality of misery.

Unless she changes her future. She has the opportunity to take the future into her own hands.

_‘What are you doing, sweetheart? Didn’t I tell you to not lock your werewolf side away?_’

_‘Hope,’ Hayley sighs tiredly. ‘This won’t change anything. You’re just running away from yourself. Normal girl or miracle tribrid, your problems won’t magically go away.’_

“I am fucking high! Why am I seeing you?”

_‘Your mind is stronger than some drug,” Klaus says gently. ‘You are stronger than you know. Listen to your mother, Hope. Face your problems head on, don’t run away.’_

_Camille gives her a significant look. Katherine and Inadu are nowhere to be seen._

_‘Why are you seeing us?’ Camille repeats Hope’s question. ‘Because deep down you know you will regret making this decision.’_

Something in Hope’s face changes, a sudden realization.

“I have you back,” she whispers. “You might not be real, but I don’t care. I have you back.” She looks at her parents. “And you can’t leave me now.” She smiles an insane kind of smile.

While still looking at them, Hope sees her mom and dad vanish, leaving seven-year-old Hope in their place.

Her smile fades.

The girl doesn’t talk, simply looking at Hope is enough.

_‘Get a grip,’ Katherine says suddenly. ‘They’re dead, all of them, even her.’ she points at young Hope, who also vanishes. ‘This is not some wish fulfillment here. Either you accept they’re dead and move on or it will destroy you. Trust me, I’m speaking from experience.’_

“Screw you. Can’t you let me have one moment of peace? Just one moment in which you don’t actively try to destroy my life?”

Katherine stayed quiet for the rest of the night. 

Kol is sitting at Hope’s desk when the tribrid wakes up. She doesn’t even notice him at first, only when he started talking. Luckily she put all the grimoires away. Otherwise Kol would have probably figured out what she is doing.

“Hello, darling,” he says.

“Uncle Kol?”

“Hey, I got all you asked for,” he says. “Canvases for weeks, paint, paintbrushes and everything your artistic heart desires. And the jewelry you wanted.”

“Thank you.” Hope give him a quick hug.

“I heard you and Rebekah haven’t been getting along recently.”

“No,” Hope says crossly. “Happens when someone decides to take over your life and make all the choices for you.”

It’s honestly kind of funny. Previously Hope wanted her family to show more of a reaction to her actions but now that they are doing it, she hates it all the same.

“But I thought you liked it here.”

“I did. Once upon a time.”

“What do you want instead?” Kol says interestedly.

“I want to go back home.”

“And then what? You live with Freya and Keelin? Go to school there?”

“No, you’d all be there too,” Hope says.

“Hope, darling, no, we wouldn’t. Last time was an exception.”

“Are you trying to convince me to stay here?” Hope asks, eyes narrowed.

“Certainly not. I’m just making sure you know what you want. I, for one, don’t think New Orleans will be any better for you than this school.”

“Is this Rebekah talking through you, hm?”

“Look,” Kol says pleadingly, “I don’t care about your drama with my sister, that’s your and Rebekah’s problem, but I do care about your wellbeing. And I think it doesn’t matter where you are. You can be miserable here and at any place in the world, too, but you can also be happy here. What does a place matter anyway? What is there in New Orleans that isn’t here?”

“Dad loved New Orleans,” Hope says.

“So what? You want to be there for him? Hope, he wouldn’t want that.”

“New Orleans is our home. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“No. A place doesn’t matter. I know that you know that. What are you running away from, Hope?”

“Nothing.”

“What? What is it? Or who is it?”

Hope stays quiet.

“Someone you hurt?”

“Fine, I’ll stay here if you just stop talking,” Hope says.

“Fifty points to me,” Kol replies, grinning. He stands up and sits down on Hope’s bed, next to his niece.

“I have to admit,” he says, smiling, “I didn’t particularly like or care about you when you were a child.” A distant smile covers his face. “To be fair, it wasn’t a good time for me back then and I just don’t like children in general.”

“What changed?” Hope says, smiling an amused kind of smile.

“You became older. At first Davina had to kick my ass into calling you. ‘She’s your niece, call her!’ she used to say. Well, the more I spoke with you, the more you grew on me. I saw so much of myself in you. A prodigy with magic, a little troublemaker-” he flashes her a grin, “so independent and smart. Admittedly, those aren’t all my qualities, per se.” He shrugs. “Some of them you may have gotten from your dad. And you were so innocent, so much better than we all. How could I not come to love you, my dear niece?”

“Ugh,” Hope fake gags. “You’re gonna make me throw up.”

Kol snorts. “Yeah, that’s the appropriate reaction when someone tells you that they love you.”

“I love you too, Uncle Kol.”

“I know you do.”

“Let me get dressed. I’ll join you for breakfast,” Hope says. “Is Davina here too?”

“Yeah, she is.”

“Great. Any plans for today or are you just gonna leave again?”

“No plans from my side. But if you want to spend your Saturday with your dear uncle and aunt then we can certainly think of something to do.”

“Uhm, I’ll think of something. Give me a minute, all right?”

“Sure.” Standing at the door Kol says, “Just know that we all have your best interest at heart. We love you as you are. Don’t think that anything has changed just because you turned out to be a little junkie and have some problems with reality. Happens to the best of us.”

He is grinning when Hope throws a pillow at him and leaves with her laugh in his ears.

Kol, Davina and Hope spend their Saturday together, mostly playing poker, drinking wine, having a good time. And Kol is still as good poker as the last time they played, destroying Davina and Hope once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klamille >>>>> Klaroline.  
To show you how much I care about ships in this fic, here’s a chapter without Josie and Penelope in them. At ease, they will be there next chapter. But, truth to be told, the fact that the majority of you only care about the ships (as far as I know, you don't tell me shit) actively lessens my desire to include them.
> 
> This was supposed to be finished much sooner. The long wait is partly your fault, my dear readers, but mostly mine. Another fic, mental breakdown after mental breakdown, suicidal thoughts acting up again, and the start of college delayed this chapter big time. But I’m good now. I guess. Watch me get depressed again now that I said it


End file.
